#had a conversation in which our now ex-host promised to try to be more open but they were scared | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

heymacy · 3 years

Note

I love all those sentence prompts you just posted.😂 But I feel like the most appropriate one is probably:

“So why did I have to punch that guy?”

Thank you Arrow!! 💗

Ridiculous Sentence Prompts: "So why did I have to punch that guy?"

There were only a few things left in the world that made Mickey really, really angry.

The first was their property manager, Melanie, and her stupid-ass dog with its stupid, stupid diaper.

The second was the fact that a single can of beer cost four times more on the West Side than it did back in their old neighborhood. What special brand of bullshit were these crunchy granola hippies trying to churn out at the Wine, Etc. store, anyway?

The third thing, and probably the only one that would stick around after he adjusted to his new life above the poverty line, was any time that anyone disrespected, hurt, or even mildly annoyed his husband.

Every time they dealt with an irritating client or an overzealous new employee, Mickey would clench his teeth and fight the urge to knock them on their ass. One hit was all it would take, he knew that for certain. He'd taken down Ian's exes, family members, hell, even Ian himself on a few occasions, with a single punch to the throat.

Now, he was an adult, a business owner, a husband and partner that needed to play by society's rules if they were ever going to crawl out of the gutter completely.

The very idea made Mickey's teeth ache.

He bit his bottom lip while they sat side-by-side in their booth at the Alibi, waiting for some schmuck to meet them for an interview.

"We need to start interviewing the guys we hire, Mickey," Ian had said one night while cooking dinner. He chopped the carrots and celery on the wooden cutting board while Mickey sat slumped on the couch, nursing a beer and watching a TikTok Mandy had sent him earlier that day.

He looked up at his husband as he watched an orange and white cat chow down on kibble after his automatic feeder malfunctioned.

Mandy 🌻 (6:09pm): plz tell ian this is him in cat form

Mickey snorted at his phone, barely registering Ian's comment.

"Mick?" Ian tried again, and Mickey looked up from his phone.

"Hmm?" he replied through a mouthful of beer.

"I said we need to start interviewing the guys we hire," Ian said again, using the knife to scrape the carrots and celery off of the cutting board and into the giant pot he had boiling on the stove. Mickey wasn't sure what he was making, but it smelled amazing.

"What for? Those resumé things ain't good enough for you?" Mickey's mouth quirked up on the side as he tried to hide a smirk.

Ian rolled his eyes and used the comically oversized wooden spoon to stir his soup.

"No, Mick. So we don't have another Connor situation."

Mickey snorted. Connor was a dipshit they'd hired back in April to help with pickups, a dipshit that had cost the company almost $2,500 after he "forgot" to make the deposit with Ian and Mickey at the end of his scheduled route.

"I mean, his name's Connor. Kinda feel like you should've known what you were walkin' in to with that one."

"I'm serious," Ian said. "Interviews. We gotta do 'em." He stirred the soup vigorously, the spoon clanking against the side of the pot with every twist.

Mickey sighed deeply and rolled his eyes.

"Fine, we'll interview some new guys. But we're not doing it at a Starbucks or some shit. I'm not ready to go full West Side." He scrunched up his nose and made a face, to which Ian just chuckled.

"Glad you're on board," he teased, getting back to work on his soup, which had started to bubble.

Kev and Vee had moved to Louisville a month before, transferring ownership of the bar to Carl and Officer Tipping, who promised to keep everything just as it was. It gave Mickey a sense of calm knowing that even as the rest of his old neighborhood was slipping away, his adolescent stomping grounds now littered with coffee shops and yoga studios, some things remained the same.

He ran his fingers along the familiar crack in the table, a sharp sensation prodding the pads of his fingertips and helping him forget, even temporarily, what they were there to do.

Ian smacked the back of Mickey's hand gently.

"Stop it," he said, referring to the way Mickey was two seconds away from giving himself a splinter.

Mickey huffed and rolled his eyes.

"What's this guy's name again?"

Ian looked at his phone where he had an email pulled up. He glanced over the message then scrolled to the bottom.

"Derek," he said plainly.

"Derek," Mickey mocked, and Ian whacked him in the chest with the back of his hand.

"Knock it off," he said, and Mickey rolled his eyes again.

"Whatever. He's late anyway, let's just bail and go get some pizza."

"He's not late, Mickey. It's only..." he looked at his watch. "3:58. He's got three minutes until he's late."

Just then, as if summoned by Ian's voice, a tall, lanky, blond man walked through the front door of the bar and made his way towards the back corner booth where Ian and Mickey sat.

"You guys Ian and Mackie?"

Ian snorted as he tried to hide his laughter. Mickey rolled his eyes a third time, this time so hard that it was honestly impressive he didn't snap his optic nerves in the process.

"Mickey," Ian corrected politely. He nudged his husband with his elbow and the two of them climbed out of the booth to meet with their interviewee.

Ian shook his hand firmly.

"I'm Ian, and this is my husband Mickey." He smiled and turned to Mickey, who was standing with his hands in his pockets and giving Derek, all six feet two inches of him, an intense once-over. Elbowing his husband for a second time, Mickey relented, pulling his hands from his pockets and reaching out to shake Derek's hand. His giant palm was cold and clammy but also somehow uncomfortably hot. Mickey grimaced.

"Hey," he said gruffly. "Mickey."

"Derek," the other man said as they shook hands. "So you two are married?"

Ian nodded.

"Little over a year now, yeah."

Derek nodded.

"Cool, cool, cool," he said, nodding and looking around. "So this place is...interesting."

The judgmental and condescending way Derek said "interesting" wasn't new or unusual to either of them, but tall lanky blond bitches with North Side energy and a terrible fade saying "interesting" like they wanted to say "disgusting" made Mickey's blood boil.

He clenched his fist without even realizing what he was doing. Ian noticed immediately when Mickey's shoulders tensed up, stiffening in a way that reminded Ian of a startled cat, and he turned to climb back in the booth. He squeezed Mickey's arm once, twice, and dragged him down into the booth with him.

"It was a family friend's place," Ian said, nonchalant, eager to move the conversation away from the Alibi and towards their business. "So, Derek, on your resume, I see that you worked--"

Derek cut Ian off mid-sentence.

"Have they ever thought about turning this place into some sort of art installation or something? Just with the open floor plan and the exposed pipes, it's very pseudo-industrial-chic."

If they hadn't already assumed before by his distinct vocal fry and the smell of coconut hair gel, Derek's use of the term "pseudo-industrial-chic" solidified what the other two already knew: there were three gay motherfuckers in this booth.

Ian stuttered for a second, surprised by Derek's interjection and resistance to changing the subject.

"Don't think so, no." He grabbed his phone and opened up the Gmail app again. "So, anyway, your resume says you worked at--"

"You know what would be really cool in here? A movement class. I went to one in LA once that was hosted by Gwyneth Paltrow and it was liberating."

Mickey snorted and Ian elbowed him in the ribs.

"I bet it was," Ian said, unamused at Derek's refusal to talk about his work history. "So you worked at--"

"Have you guys ever been to LA? Oh my god, it's the best. So chic. I mean, I'm from Evanston originally, so basically anything is chic in comparison. I mean, not here, obviously, but you know. Other places."

Ian sighed.

"Totally," he said. "So, your work history, it says--"

"Hey, do you guys know what the best dispensary is around here? Preferably something upscale, with those iPads you can order on. I need a few new carts--"

"Dude," Mickey cut in. "Can you shut the fuck up for five seconds?"

Derek looked surprised, and Mickey could hear Ian's sharp, apprehensive inhale.

"Excuse me?" Derek said, holding his hand to his chest.

"He's been trying to ask you the same question since we sat down, and you won't shut the fuck up about chic cities and weed, so if you could just answer our questions, that would be great." He looked over at Ian, whose eyes were wide and hesitant, unsure about how things were about to unfold.

"You're very rude," Derek said to Mickey, giving him a scowl.

Mickey snorted.

"Yeah, tell me something I don't know."

Derek's eyes narrowed and his forehead wrinkled up, agitated.

"You should be nicer to the people you want to hire." He crossed his arms over his chest like a petulant child.

Mickey laughed out loud.

"Dude, who says we wanna hire you? I'm pretty sure if you worked for us, I'd blow my brains out in the first two minutes."

Ian tried and failed miserably to conceal his laughter, covering his mouth with his hand and looking down at the table. Mickey leaned over towards his husband.

"I kinda wanna punch this guy in the mouth," he mumbled, and Ian side-eyed him from where he sat beside him.

"Please don't," he replied in a whisper before composing himself and turning back to Derek.

"Look, Derek, you seem like a nice guy, but I don't think this is gonna work out." He held out his hand to signal that the interview was over, but Derek didn't return his handshake. Instead, he pouted like a toddler that had just been scolded for bad behavior.

"Your husband's a dick," Derek said to Ian, and Mickey could literally feel Ian's body stiffen next to him.

"Hey," Mickey said, putting his hand on Ian's knee. "Forget it. Let's go get pizza."

"No," Ian said sternly, turning back to Derek. "Listen, dude, you're also kind of a dick, so why don't we just call this a wash and you can go track down your carts or whatever."

Mickey bit his lip, fighting a smile. He secretly loved when Ian got defensive, as long as it wasn't directed towards him.

"You're both dicks!" Derek said, slamming his hands down on the table. He slid out of the booth and stood up, and Mickey and Ian did the same. The three men stood there, Derek facing the husbands with a pissed-off expression.

"You should go," Ian said, pointing at the door.

Derek snorted.

"I guess I shouldn't be surprised. When the ad said South Side, I knew there was a good chance the owners were a couple of trashy, ghetto assholes. But him?" He pointed at Mickey. "He's a world-class dick."

Before Derek could say anything else, he was cut off by a fist to the jaw and dropped to the floor, unconscious.

The ambient chatter and loud clacking of billiard balls came to a halt as the regulars that sat scattered around the Alibi turned in unison to see what had happened. Once they identified the source of the loud "thud" as one of the Gallagher-Milkovich boys knocking out some blond giant, they immediately turned back to their various activities.

Just another day on the South Side.

Ian cupped his right fist in his left hand and turned to Mickey, bewildered.

"I just punched that guy, Mick," he said, genuinely surprised. "I knocked him out. Shit."

Mickey shrugged.

"He kinda deserved it."

Ian looked at Mickey with a really? sort of expression and shook his head back and forth.

"Still," he said, turning to look at Derek, sprawled out unconscious on the floor like a rag doll.

"C'mon man, it's fine. He'll come to, and when he does, we'll be long gone." He grabbed Ian's upper arm and gave him a tug, but Ian just sat back down in the booth.

"Why did I do that?" he asked, but Mickey knew he was talking only to himself. He sat down beside his husband, stepping over Derek's long ass leg on his way back to the booth.

"I mean, you kinda had to."

Ian looked over at Mickey, eyebrows raised. He stared at his husband for a moment, puzzling, before breaking into a smile.

"What?" Mickey asked, confused as to how Ian could go from having some sort of moral crisis over knocking out a hipster to grinning gleefully at his husband in a half second. Ian reached over and put his hand on Mickey's thigh. Immediately, the mood shifted. Pool cues squeaked as they were chalked up and glasses clinked on the countertops. The distinct chhh-chhh sound of a spray bottle punctured Mickey's ear drums as he looked down at his husband's hand on his thigh.

"So," Ian said, voice quieter than before. "Why did I have to punch that guy?"

Mickey smirked. He could be honest, and say the obvious reason, which was that Derek was a total douche canoe and deserved to be socked in the mouth by someone his own size. He could lie, and say it was because Derek seemed dangerous and Ian was just following his instincts, but that would have been the lie of the fucking century.

Instead, he said neither, and opted for something he knew would make Ian smile.

"Because you love me."

Ian's face broke into a full grin and he giggled, leaning over to kiss his husband once, quickly, well-aware of Mickey's hesitancy towards PDA when they were out and about on the South Side.

When he pulled back, he was smirking, and Mickey knew his cheeks were flushed. He hadn't been expecting the kiss, however brief it was, and his stomach felt a little fluttery.

"I mean, I'm not the kind of guy that just stands by and lets people talk shit about the man he loves." He grinned and Mickey rolled his eyes, remembering Ian telling him about the last words he'd said to Glittery Twink Byron the night they'd gotten engaged.

"You're a fuckin' sap, man."

"True," Ian said, standing up from the booth and stepping over Derek's leg as Mickey had done minutes before. He reached out his hand and pulled his husband from the booth. The two of them stood there momentarily, staring at Derek's lump of a body on the sticky, peanut-shell covered floor.

"Should we like, do something?" Mickey asked, kicking Derek's foot with his own boot. The man didn't move a muscle. Mickey wondered for a second if he might be dead, but the shallow rise and fall of the douche canoe's chest let him know that unfortunately, for all of humankind, the asshole was still alive.

Ian shook his head.

"Nah, he can sleep it off."

He reached down and took Mickey's hand in his own.

"C'mon," he said as he dragged them both towards the door. "Let's go get pizza."

#writing prompts #sentence prompts #ficlet #the husband energy is strong with this one #shameless

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scottfuckingreed · 4 years

Text

It’s a Pogue thing - JJ Maybank

NOT REQUESTED

Warnings!: Swearing, drugs and alcohol, and SMUT!

“Morning guys!” I beam as the boat comes to a steady stop at the edge of my front garden. It’s almost like a routine. More often than not we sail into an open set of water. Sometimes we fish, mostly we just simply do nothing. Pope extends his hand out to help me onto the boat. It strikes me sometimes that, although we are all the best of friends, it probably seems a strange mix of people to some people. We’re the scraps of the island. The ones who no one really acknowledges. Kiara and I would technically be Kooks. Both of our families have money but it doesn’t really mean shit. Everyone from ‘our end’ are airheads. They care about nothing and no one but themselves. Pope’s parents have worked their asses off, so they’re in a stable place. They don’t understand why Pope hangs with us, and sometimes I wonder the same thing. He has a real chance of getting out of this place. John B and JJ are childhood besties. Their upbringing is similar, except John B’s technically an orphan, and JJ’s father’s a piece of shit. But that’s just pogue life.

“Is your mum still out tonight?” JJ asks, making my head slowly turn towards him. Do I even need to ask? “I mean, yeah-” “Great! We’re throwing a party,” I raise my eyebrows. “Hahahahaha, definitely not.” The last time I had a party with these idiots, so much shit broke in my house. I’m not getting grounded again. “Come on Y/N! It’s summer. We could all use a party!” I roll my eyes at his words. I open my mouth to shut him down but John B lets out a cough. “Actually, Y/N, I agree.” Kiara looks just as confused as I do. His father’s been missing for almost a year. Recently he’s been looking more in depth, which I support to a certain extent, but it’s at on overload right now. I’m surprised a party would even be on his radar. “I need to talk to Sarah Cameron.”

Sarah Cameron. She’s like Kook royalty. I don’t think she’s too bad. A bit sheltered maybe, but her and Kiara have a history. So you can imagine the change in look on her face as he mentions her name. “She mentioned something that might help me figure out what’s happened with my father. Do you think she’d come?” Okay that makes sense. Ki’s face doesn’t change, and the rest of us just glance between each other. “I mean, probably... but I don’t really wanna hang-” “I just need to talk to her, then you can call the party off,” a smile - too shiny and wide - spreads across his face. John B’s always had this affect on people. He gets exactly what he wants.

As soon as I get home I scan my house. Anything fragile, valuable, or anything of the sort needs to be hidden. Vases, mini statues, ashtrays from holidays abroad. Things that make this house a home will be locked in an upstairs bedroom. I’d like to live this life a little longer.

So here I am; picking an outfit for a party I don’t wanna go to. A party that I’m apparently hosting! Since I’m not dressing for anybody, I go for a simple short black dress. It really resembles my mood. Almost as soon as I put it on, I hear my front door shut. I jog down the stairs, adjusting my boobs into their rightful positions to come face to face with my intruder.

“You should really announce yourself or something. I thought I was gonna get murdered,” in front of me stands JJ. His outfit consists of a pair of lovely beige shorts and a colourful shirt; left open to show off that torso of course. “I could kill you,” he flirts. His eyes immediately go to my cleavage. This is nothing new. I think he’d fuck a table if it gave him the right vibe. “Hey!” I snap my fingers at him. “My eyes are up here you know.” Before I go to kick him, he makes a very boyish comment of how I look sexy and whatnot. He wanders away into the kitchen, probably to raid my fridge before the party. Let’s get this over with.

More and more people start to gather in my house. In the Outer Banks, everyone kind of knows everybody. I don’t actually know all these people, but I’ve seen them around. I close my eyes for a second, before pouring a drink for myself into a classic red cup. “Are you okay?” Ki nudges me with a smile. Ki and I are very similar people. She probably doesn’t wanna be here either. She could leave, but I know she won’t. “I just realised I’m the host, and I don’t wanna be here,” I laugh it off and hold my drink up to her. “Cheers!” I add.

After about 2 and a half drinks, I’m really starting to feel this party. The music is average. It’s the ‘for everybody’ kind which means it’s majoritively overplayed and everybody more or less knows it word for word. Despite that, and despite the fact that I didn’t really want this party to happen, I drag Ki into the dance area and boogie with her. Well- I dance, she stares at me with a concerned look on her face. “The trick is you have to pretend you’re having a good time,” I giggle into her ear in a slightly tipsy tone. Although she shakes her head, I can see her trying to contain herself from moving to the music. I take her hand and spin myself into her. Her eyes give me the ‘can I go now’ look. Grunting, I give in. “Fine! Please if you see anyone doing or touching shit they’re not meant to, beat them!” I smile innocently after my words, and she scurries faster than she should. Damn. Am I that bad of a dancer?

Music vibrates the walls. It’s been almost 2 hours since the party started and it’s actually going quite smoothly. John B has asked every 5 seconds if Sarah’s here yet. I shush him with my finger. “I promise I will let you know when I see her. Honestly, you sound a bit obsessed with her...” I chuckle. “Hey!” I poke JJ on the arm. At this point, just call me mother. “Please don’t smoke that in here,” I gesture towards the spliff in his hands. “It’s a party Y/N! Relax!” With that, I snatch it out of his hands. His face grows serious. Confusion fades as I realise it’s not aimed at me. Both JJ’s and John B’s eyes stare at the group entering my house.

First in, Sarah. Like I said, I don’t really have a problem with Sarah. She comes across a bit self centred sometimes. That’s minor.

With her, her boyfriend Topper. Topper’s a dick but I think he’s harmless. He’s honestly a pussy.

And his best friend. Her brother. My ex boyfriend. Rafe.

There’s a saying; dead things should stay buried, or something like that. That relationship should be 6 feet under, but times that by 10. I guess it was a ‘serious’ relationship. It lasted about a year. It was almost perfect at the beginning, that I can’t lie. As both of our families are respected, and very close anyway, it just seemed right. There was no disgust. He was accepted. I was accepted. We did everything a couple should; went on dates, were around each other 24/7, even did weekends away together. And we argued. The thing about Rafe is he’s an over thinker. He’s paranoid. When traits like that mix they can... make a monster. The last time he set his hands on me was about 4 months ago. I’ve avoided him like hell ever since.

“This is why I shouldn’t have a party,” I sigh. My eyes can’t seem to leave that area. It’s strange to see him. I don’t want him here. “Why’s he even here? He does have some balls,” John’s tone sounds somewhat impressed. I’m not. I’m not sure if my body is ready to cry, or laugh, or scream. Finally, I blink my eyes away, and set eyes on my two friends. Before I speak, JJ opens his mouth. “We can kick him out,” he assures me. The slight nudge on my shoulders by each boy is comforting. “It’s fine,” I sigh, taking JJ’s drink out of his hands. As much as I’d love to see Rafe get his ass kicked and thrown out, and I can promise you I would, this is my battle. I can’t avoid him forever. “Fuck,” I whisper, knowing what I’m about to do. I bring JJ’s cup up to my lips and tip the entire contents into my mouth. “Shit Y/N, I wouldn’t-” before he can warn me fully, I swallow. My eyes instantly water. “What the fuck!” I gasp at the disgusting taste. I’m sure a toilet would taste better than that. And yet, that concoction would be easier to digest than the conversation I’m about to have with Rafe.

The walk over felt somewhat unreal. As if, if this was a movie, my passionate walk would be in slow motion. Between the music and my racing heart, my dramatic ‘I am the main character’ strut was complete. If only I wasn’t totally shitting myself. A brave face Y/N. Just fake it.

And then I’m in front of them. Perhaps my slow motion moment wasn’t quite slow enough. It could’ve been everlasting for all I care. “Hey Sarah,” I smile. Her sympathetic smile is warming, but ultimately useless in this situation. I doubt Rafe told her the whole story, but I can imagine she knows too well what he can be like. Maybe he even made something up. I wouldn’t be surprised. She drifts away rather quickly. I don’t know what the deal is with her and John B, but I imagine Topper intends to watch her like a hawk. He’s that type of guy. Topper doesn’t even speak, just stands slightly behind as if he’s one of Rafe’s minions. To be honest that kind of describes him perfectly. I wouldn’t be surprised if Rafe just has him around to lick his ass. When I have to, I finally look at Rafe’s face. “What are you doing here?” I ask. My eyes scan everywhere on his face but his eyes. The thought of doing that makes me uncomfortable. “It’s a party Y/N,” the smirk on his face screams fuckboy. “Plus, I wanted to see you,” he raises his hand to my face, going to tuck a piece of my hair behind my ear. My hand forcefully bats his away, making a loud slap sound; even over the music. “I’ve missed you,” he leans closer so his shouting can quieten a little. My limbs instantly tense at his words. Somehow it makes me feel kind of sick thinking about it... thinking about us. The fact that it was a thing is just... “You need to leave Rafe,” my attempt to sound blunt and assertive is a massive fail. Instead my voice echoed in a wobble, making me sound weak and pathetic. “You don’t mean that, come on-” his hand wraps around my wrist, taking my back to a time I’ve tried desperately hard to forget. I pull my arm away once, but his grip holds too strong. As I go to pull away again, a pair of large hands push against Rafe’s chest. “What the fuck man?!” Topper’s voice erupts from Rafe’s shadow. A henchman fighting his duties. I turn to see JJ, red faced, standing with a threatening stance. “We don’t want no trouble JJ, my girl here is just being a tease,” Rafe’s tone is patronising. “Leave it, JJ,” my right hand gently squeezes his left shoulder. “Let’s get a drink, Topper,” I wanted him to leave, but I watch him walk towards my kitchen. I hate that he’s in my house, but at least he’s away from me. For now.

I fade away. Without full control, my body makes it’s way upstairs. Just to breathe for a second. Almost as soon as I drop my body onto my bed, the door reopens. Startling me, I come face to face with JJ. “Hey,” his voice rings soft. When he closes the door behind him, the music becomes muffled. Peaceful. I press my lips together into a forced smile. “Should I tell everyone to fuck off home?” He gestured towards the door. I shake my head, cracking a smile. “It’s fine. I just needed a minute away from... that,” his arm extends, a red cup at the very end. I screw my face up at the smell. “How do you drink this?” Just from sniffing it, I feel myself getting more and more tipsy. “If you need it, it goes down quite easily-” he pauses as I take it. “Plus I’m really cool and manly so.” “Ah, of course.” A big part of my body (probably my stomach and liver) starts screaming no. I have no idea what alcohol is in this cup. I know it’s a lot. After this cup, I will probably be more or less gone. A micro part of me says fuck it. That’s the part I listen to. The liquid burns down my throat, and yet it strangely goes down quite smoothly compared to the first.

“I am sorry about Rafe,” JJ has taken a seat next to me on my bed. Usually I’d banish people away from my room, but I feel like JJ saved me tonight. He’s a bit of a prick at times, and an absolute idiot, but I trust him. Maybe I trust him too much. “It was gonna happen at some point,” I shrug. “He’s such a pussy,” when I start laughing at JJ’s words, I realise that the alcohol may have sunk in. A hiccup escapes my mouth. “Fuck.” I whisper to myself as my smile fades. I’m an idiot to have ever gotten with him. Young and dumb maybe. “Hey...” JJ rests his hand on my knee and squeezes gently. My body, in my tipsy state, reacts to this motion is a strange way. Why did that just give me butterflies? He’s only comforting me. My eyes drift up to look at him properly. Is he... leaning in?

I stand up before he gets close. I rub my eyes frantically. Maybe I’m about to wake up from a nap or something. “I’m sorry... I just...” I breathe. The crazy thing is, I felt it too. My body is reacting in crazy ways right now. I think I’m turned on? By JJ? That’s something I never thought I’d say. I mean... he’s hot. I’m not blind. I guess I’ve never looked at him like that. But I am now. I’m looking at the blonde hair, and the jawline, and the smile. Okay, that’s enough. I’m just in shock of seeing Rafe again. That’s it: “Pogue on Pogue isnt allowed,” I state, mainly to myself. I need massively convincing right now. I need JJ to tell me that I got the wrong idea. Tell me it’s disgusting and I’m too much like a sister. We’re meant to be family. Come on Y/N! That’s gross! Before he says anything, he shrugs. That damn fucking shrug. In my state of mind, it’s attractive. “I don’t really care,” that’s it. I’m convinced. I needed him to say something else, but that’s ultimately the answer I hoped for. “Me neither.”

I practically jump onto him, straddling him and crashing my lips onto his. The softness, yet passion, against my lips is something I’m not sure I’ve ever felt. This should feel wrong. Only, as JJ’s hands smooth up and down my body before sitting on my waist, it couldn’t feel more right. Without a second thought, I glide my tongue into his mouth. I can sense it takes him by surprise. The most attractive moan escapes him, which I can imagine was not intentional. The kiss proceeds to get more and more intimate. Somehow we just move in sync. He slowly lays back, our lips not separating once before he’s fully beneath me. Maybe JJ was previously holding back, but a rush of ‘horny teenage boy’ suddenly rushes over him. Both hands go to my ass. As much as I don’t want to fall apart under his touch so fast, the immense pleasure radiates through my body. I break away from his kiss slightly and moan massively into his mouth.

We stop kissing for a second. Our heavy breaths bounce against each other. It’s a strange moment to be in. Was this always bound to happen at some point? “Should we stop?” Confusion hits as he speaks those words, and yet he proceeds to trail kisses down my neck. I push his head down onto the pillow with my right hand cupping his chin, bringing my face close enough to his that our noses are pretty much touching. “Do you want to?” I simple ask. I’d be almost offended by his words, but only if his hands weren’t grinding me down onto his crotch. Perhaps it’s a guilty conscience. We are both massively likely to regret this in the morning. We are also likely to get caught and get grief from our small circle of friends. They are good enough reasons to stop. They are good enough reasons for this to have never started to happen in the first place. They just don’t amount to one thing, and that’s that I want this right now. His head begins to move side to side. I can’t help but begin to smile massively. “Then shut up and fuck me.”

It was as if that was a jump start. JJ’s manly hands flip us over immediately. I let out a giggle as he begins to undo his shorts. The speed of the removal of both his shorts and boxers was impressive. They get thrown wherever they go. My eyes quickly glance at his penis, before looking back up to his eyes. I suck in my bottom lip before pulling him back down to kiss me again. This shouldn’t be this easy. His tongue slides back into my mouth, battling with mine for dominance, all too easily. I’m not even a little bit nervous... until I feel his fingertips glide up under my dress. He hooks his finger under the waist band of my thong and does nothing for too long. It might’ve only been seconds, but those seconds were some of the longest seconds of my life. He pulls them off ever so slowly. I was becoming a literal puddling mess beneath him.

He knows what he’s doing. He knows he has me wrapped around his finger right now. His tongue plays against mine skillfully; slow and passionate. He’s doing everything right. Once my underwear finally reaches my feet, I just can’t hold it back anymore. “Are you done teasing me now?” I practically beg. I’m soaked, a mess, and almost fully sober. If anything, I wanted this more now than I did when we started. My heart continues racing, but I stay composed and reach over into my bedside table. I rip it open. I simply hold his shaft with two fingers. JJ takes a deep breath in. Fuck. He watches my hand roll the condom down with his mouth slightly open. “Time to break some Pogue rules,” he whispers before lining himself up. I should not be this ready for this.

Even with just the tip, I could’ve come apart then and there. I haven’t had sex in months. Whether you believe me or not, I had not imagined it would to be JJ Maybank who I was going to break my ‘no boys’ commitment to myself with. When he begins inserting himself inside me, I realise this is actually happening. The slow, easy slide in had me in pieces. I was already moaning and he wasn’t even moving properly yet. He stops. “This-” I pause to steady my breath. My entire being is, dare I say it, excited. “This has to stay between us,” I compose myself. Although this is a one time thing, it has potential to ruin a hell of a lot. So, even as I wrap my legs around his body, we have to make this promise. “Scouts honour.” He brings his pinky up to me. Kissing the backs of our hands, it was sealed.

He starts pulling out slowly, making my jaw gradually open wider and wider. He pauses before pushing back in. His eyes lock with mine, and he smiles cheekily. I’m not certain what that smile means, but I can sure take a guess. There is a part of me that wants to stop. Nothing’s really happened yet. But no part of me actually wants to. When he pushes himself back inside me, my fingers spread into his hair. His lips land back on mine, my tongue swirls around his like it’s an everyday activity. I pull gently on his hair as he begins steadying a pace. “Shit,” I moan against his lips.

Fingertips glide across my thigh, tracing patterns and sending my stomach into spirals. I couldn’t hook my legs around him tighter if I tried. The wave of tremendous pleasure of each thrust was like a drug. Every time his body collided with mine I wanted more. I needed more. To feel this, in this moment, with JJ was wrong. So why doesn’t it feel that way? His lips leave mine slowly, tracing kisses across my cheek until his lips land near my ear. “You feel so fucking good,” the vibrations of a deep husky moan forces a moan out of me. His teeth latch around my ear lobe, sucking down before moving down to my neck.

The friskiness of JJ’s lips and tongue is like motivation. With strength I didn’t know I had, and confidence in myself I thought I’d lost, I push against JJ and flip us over. Lust fills his eyes. I just sit there, only for a second, actually liking the way JJ is looking at me. Yes, it’s because I’m straddling him half naked. It’s still nice. His hands squeeze the tops of both of my thighs as well as moving up to my hips... then my ass. It was as if he pressed fast forwards.

I move my body up to start thrusting onto him again, with his helping hands guiding back down. “Fuck JJ,” I moan, leaning forwards to bring my face close to his. My moans become more and more prominent between our kisses. The hands, that remain on my ass cheeks, remain strong and steady. The way he still controlled my body, even though I was on top, was such a turn on. I reach for the headboard. If there wasn’t a party going on downstairs I think everyone would be hearing us loud and clear. The bed starts making a rather persistent squeaking noise. I let out a laugh-moan when the headboards makes a ‘one time’ bang against the wall. I could tell, with the way I was grinding myself down onto him, he was close. What a relief!

“I’m so close,” I moan against his lips in a muffled whisper. Although my body grew tired, JJ continues helping my body thrust up and down. The knot in my stomach started to tighten. My heart rate increases quite a bit. “Fuck Y/N, you feel so good around me!” His fingers grow stronger against my hips as he came closer and closer to finishing. Even with his grip being quite forceful, all I could feel was an astonishing amount of pleasure flushing through my body. The release felt like a long time coming. Once I started to let go around him, it only took seconds for JJ to reach his climax too. With his help, we ride out our highs. I grow slower and slower, until both of our climaxes finished. My heart is racing. I lift my body with the last piece of energy I had. My sensitive core flinches as he pulls out from me once more. Collapsing onto him, I fall into the crevice on his arm all too well. “Shit,” I mumble. I don’t think it’ll actually sink in until tomorrow. I’m too scared to punch myself in case I don’t wake up. “That was... uh...” he doesn’t even need to finish his sentence. “I know.”

The next morning

I wake up in a strange yet awfully familiar place. The walls, the blanket, and the view outside my window are all home. The curtains weren’t drawn last night. When I roll over, there’s something that shouldn’t be familiar. I set eyes on a naked JJ sleeping soundly next to me. My eyes widen. I can’t help but sit up drastically fast. I first find my thong. As quietly as I can, I open a drawer beside my bed and rummage for a t shirt. I find one and put it on, only to turn and see JJ’s eyes staring my way.

“Morning sunshine,” he smirks. His bed hair sticks up in every direction. I notice his boxers across the room so I stand and throw them his way. I watch as his face changes, but the proud smirk on his face remains. “We fucked last night,” he chuckles, standing to put his boxers on. I press my top and bottom lips together. “Don’t look too impressed with yourself,” using the hairband around my wrist, I quickly whip my hair up into a ponytail. My legs make their way to stand next to the boy. “It was better than I’d imagined it,” he adds. I backhand him on the arm. “Hey!” His eyes are warming. This is when I realise that I don’t regret it. At least, not half as much as I thought I would. It’s not even awkward. Part of me automatically assumed it would be. “Right,” I clap my hands together. “Are you ready to clean a house?” I ask. His rolling eyes scream loudly. Before he can even protest, I butt in. “This is your party, your mess. You’re lucky I’m gonna help you!”

With each step down the stairs, more of my messy house is revealed to me. “If anything’s broken, you’re replacing it,” I warn him. Red cups, empty beer bottles, even clothing was scattered across the floor. I start imagining the way people probably started behaving when JJ and I went upstairs. What if people fucked on... well... anywhere?! “I think we should just go back upstairs,” JJ suggests. This is going to take so long to clean. I feel JJ’s hand slap against my ass. “It’s never happening again,” I say simply. Yes, it was pretty amazing. No, I do not regret it. No, it should never happen again because our friends will kill us. “Whatever you say babe.”

Click here if you’re interested in reading PART TWO

#outer banks #jj maybank #outer banks jj #jj mayback x reader #smut #obx jj #jj obx #jj maybank smut

186 notes · View notes

melatovnik · 3 years

Note

ok ur top faves wangxian fics go

hey yati! 🥰️

alright, so first things first, here’s a big wangxian fic rec list i made a while ago, if you wanna check that one out too! consider the list below part 2. these are all my faves so far since my last rec list (as you'll quickly see, i have a LOT of faves).

and just a fyi/psa/disclaimer for anyone reading this: some of these fics have disturbing themes and/or kinky/freaky sex! make sure to check the authors’ tags and notes before reading. also, much like my first rec list, there’s going to be a mix of mdzs and cql canon, characterizations, dynamics, etc., so bear that in mind.

....ok GO

live from new york by varnes | rated E | 87K words | THE snl au fic!!!! yes, by snl i mean saturday night live. this is perhaps the best and funniest story i've ever read, period. varnes is a fucking genius. read this fic.

Wei Ying lets out a long, ugly groan. “I am fine, Lan Zhan. Everybody is overreacting, it’s so embarrassing for all of you.”

“You had undiagnosed pneumonia, which you walked around with for weeks until you passed out during dress,” Lan Wangji corrects him. “It got a big laugh, until everyone thought you were dead.”

He keeps his voice even and does not tell Wei Ying that it had been Lan Wangji who caught him, who called the ambulance, and who rode with him to the hospital, where he was yelled at by nurses who wanted to know why he hadn’t noticed that Wei Ying couldn’t stop shivering or string proper sentences together.

“Rumors of my demise have been vastly overstated,” Wei Ying says. “Anyway, I’m already feeling much better. Basically fine. Really almost completely back to normal, so stop babying me and tell me why the fuck you let your stupid brother hire the worst man in the world to host our show.”

OR: the one where they all work at SNL, Yanli's ex-boyfriend is hosting, and that's just the beginning of everybody's problems.

swiss cheese theory by varnes | rated M | 19K words | sequel to snl au fic!!!!!! another must-read.

The Swiss Cheese model of accident causation likens human system defences to a series of slices of randomly-holed Swiss Cheese arranged vertically and parallel to each other with gaps in-between each slice. Defences against failure are modelled as a series of barriers, represented as slices of the cheese. The holes in the cheese slices represent individual weaknesses in individual parts of the system. The system as a whole produces failures when holes in all of the slices momentarily align, permitting "a trajectory of accident opportunity," so that a hazard passes through holes in all of the defences, leading to an accident.

OR: Lan Wangji and Wei Wuxian go to the courthouse.

OR: “Sweethearts,” the city clerk had said, very gently, “you��re already married.”

best friends forever by varnes | rated T | 17K words | alright, so like, strictly speaking, wangxian isn't the focus of this fic, BUT. this fic is so good!! it is seriously so good, and it made me fall in love with jin ling/lan jingyi. also, it's varnes, so read it!

It happened like this: Jin Ling was a sect leader now, which was, and Jingyi really meant this, fucking hilarious. There were few things funnier, in his honest opinion.

Because he was young, and inexperienced, and also — it had to be said — a real shithead, there was apparently some belief amongst his advisors that the best way forward, to promote the picture of a stable, mature sect leader who absolutely did not cry at the drop of a hat, was for Jin Ling to get married.

OR: Jin Ling and Jingyi get engaged.

Things spiral from there.

For a Good Time, Call by ScarlettStorm | rated E | 171K words

The picture is of Wei Ying, that much is clear. It’s of a lot more of Wei Ying than Lan Zhan is used to seeing. He supposes that, technically, Wei Ying is dressed. It’s a bare technicality, since one of Wei Ying’s hands has rucked up his black tank top practically to his collarbone, showing a long expanse of abdomen and one nipple. Sweat beads on his sternum, catching the light like jewels. His other hand is--Lan Zhan feels his eyes widen, as though unable to look away from a train wreck--on his hip, one thumb tugging down the waistband of a pair of red briefs. Wei Ying is biting his lower lip and looking directly into the camera, sultry, his eyes dark and inviting. His erection is obvious, outlined against the red of the briefs and framed carefully with the hand on his hip. Lan Zhan’s brain goes wildly, screamingly blank.

Or: Lan Zhan accidentally finds his best friend's OnlyFans account and has an ongoing emotional crisis.

love, in fire and blood by cicer | rated E | 360K words | i actually haven't finished this one since i was reading it when it was a WIP, i need to reread it and catch up fjdskl;fjsd, but i love it very much!!!!!! oh my god he wanted to look nice for his husband..... 🙃 [screams with mouth closed]

"You want Wen Ruohan dead," the Patriarch continued idly. "You want his corpse puppets eliminated. You want his halls burned to the ground and his soldiers disemboweled and begging for mercy. Have I about covered it?"

He gave another knife-edged smile.

"But what will you give me in return?"

"We would be willing to offer quite a bit in return for Wen Ruohan's defeat," Lan Xichen admitted. "But I'm afraid we don't know what an immortal such as yourself desires. Please advise us."

The Patriarch waved at hand at the front of the tent. "I want Second Young Master Lan."

(In which the Sunshot Campaign ends through an arranged marriage to the Yiling Patriarch, and Lan Wangji suffers the mortifying ordeal of falling in love with his own husband.)

how to fall in love with a catfish: a guide by wei wuxian (disaster rat) by bwyn & Yuisaki | rated T | 55K words

A new plan hatches in Wei Wuxian’s head. If this nocturnal, bottom-feeding, slimy, invasive mudcat posing as a beautiful actor thinks he can sway Wei Wuxian with animal pictures and a sob story and an unbelievably stilted way of texting with still no dick pictures in the first five minutes of conversation, he has another thing coming. Wei Wuxian’s got it, alright, he has this in the fucking bag.

Wei Wuxian plots to expose a catfish using strategic memes and turtle pictures while wiggling his way out of family dinner. Lan Wangji just wants companions.

there’s no promised goodbye here by Yuisaki | rated T | 54K words

Jiang Cheng stares at him. “Didn’t you say you broke up five months ago?”

“Yeah.”

“So why do you have a picture of you two kissing taped to your fridge?”

“Because we’re too broke for magnets,” Wei Wuxian explains, then considers that statement. “Well, I’m too broke for magnets. Lan Zhan probably refuses to buy them because he’s trying to have lofty ideas about the moral failings of materialism.”

Wei Wuxian navigates the trials of living with his ex-boyfriend in apartment 1301.

paint smears on sunny days by SnowshadowAO3 | rated E | 54K words

To say that he runs to his car would be incorrect, as he is a Lan, and running is both undignified and unnecessary unless in immediate danger. Nor does he slam his key into the ignition, or aggressively swerve around the cars on the freeway, or have a mild panic attack at the fact he is picking A-Yuan up late from school for the first time ever.

He comes close, though.

By the time he arrives, it’s 4:35PM, and he has imagined about fifty different worse-case scenarios. The door is partly open when he gets to it, a messy label of 104B—Art Room scrawled with chalk on a placard next to the faded wood. As he opens it fully, he expects to see a wailing, terrified child, or perhaps a scene of utter misery and betrayal.

What he finds is his son, hands covered in paint, being sung to by a beautiful, dark-haired stranger.

“Ducks live in the pond, yellow ducks, happy ducks!”

Lan Wangji stops in his tracks.

(Or: Falling in love with your son’s art teacher, in five parts)

a paper friend by sunzu | rated G | 5K words

Lan Wangji finds a paperman far from its body and helps get it home.

-Or-

Lan Wangji unknowingly meets Wei Wuxian for the first time.

All Caught Up by brooklinegirl | rated E | 37K words

"Betrothed," Wei Ying says indignantly.

Lan Wangji can't stop his gaze from darting up to him. Wei Ying understands. Wei Ying is looking at him, wide-eyed and upset on his behalf.

"And you don't even like her," Wei Ying says.

"I don't even know her," Lan Wangji says quietly.

"But even if you did—" Wei Ying starts.

"I wouldn't want this," Lan Wangji finishes.

Lead Me On Through by mrsronweasley | rated E | 55K words | oh look another canon-era practice kissing fic fjdskfl;ds

"Who do you think your betrothed is?" Wei Wuxian asks, sprawling out in front of Lan Zhan and enjoying the prim thinning of his lips at the question. He shouldn't be sprawling—they're in the library, for one, and Lan Zhan is studying, for another—but he can't help himself. Wei Wuxian is a sprawler.

"I do not believe this to be of importance," Lan Zhan responds, without turning his gaze away from his book.

"What!" Wei Wuxian sits up. "How can you say that? Of course it's important! This is the person you'll be with for the rest of your life, Lan Zhan."

I Started From the Bottom/And Now I'm Rich by x_los | rated E | 58K words | ok so i know that in my spiel above i said to mind the tags, etc., but actually pay no mind to the first two relationship tags for this fic. i PROMISE that this isn't that sort of dead dove fic fjdksl;fjs;lifkj. i. it. it's wangxian. don't sweat it. don't even trip. just—this fic fucking rules. it's completely insane and it slaps. wei ying is a girlboss and a bitch and i like her So Much

“First, you get the money. Then you get the power, respect - hos come last.”

Wen Qing traps Wei Wuxian in the Demon Slaughtering Cave, but Wei Wuxian isn’t interested in being the beneficiary of the Wen Remnants’ noble sacrifice. His efforts to free himself accidentally send him back to the beginning of the Sunshot Campaign. Coreless but armed with demonic cultivation, knowledge of the future and his wits, Wei Wuxian takes advantage of this opportunity to come out on top of both the war and its aftermath—before either has a chance to happen—by marrying and swiftly burying the cultivation world’s worst men.

Lan Wangji is confused, hurt, and uncomfortably aroused by Wei Wuxian’s improbably elaborate series of Sect-themed bridal negligees.

rather cruelly used and rather reserved by x_los | rated M | 14K words

In the month between Lan Wangji and Wei Wuxian leaving Yi City and their attending the cultivation conference in Lanling, Wei Wuxian discovers a locked room in the Jingshi. It is a mystery that clever and curious Wei Wuxian is doing everything in his power to avoid solving.

But the rose was awake all night for your sake/Knowing your promise to me by x_los | rated E | 8K words | resentment tenties~

The resentful energy occupying Wei Wuxian's body like an enemy army is very interested in giving him Lan Wangji, tied up with a bow.

Wei Wuxian is hoping that Lan Wangji (who is far too noble and very keen to save Wei Wuxian's misguided soul) doesn't find out about any aspect of that.

Mo Money, Mo Problems by x_los | rated M | 3K words

After the Mo family perishes in distressing and mysterious circumstances, Wei Wuxian, still reeling from his reincarnation, tries to dip back into their manor for a little travelling money. (Forward planning! What a concept!) Lan Wangji catches him immediately, and is highly unimpressed (read: furious) with Wei Wuxian’s decision to run away from him in the first place.

Standing Engagement by x_los | rated M | 18K words

Lan Wangji believes he and Wei Wuxian are essentially engaged. While they search for his missing betrothed, he accidentally reveals as much to Jiang Wanyin. Now everyone in the cultivation world knows about the imminent marriage, except for Wei Wuxian himself.

Coming Back to Yourself by acernor | rated E | 22K words | genital swapping for fun and nonprofit!

Lan Wangji gets cursed with a ~woman's body~ and has to orgasm to go back. Since he's 1) a virgin 2) super repressed and 3) SUPER gay, he has no idea what to do.

If only he had a super nosy friend who's read lots of erotic novels who could help him figure out what to do... hm...

Save a Sword by etymologyplayground | rated E | 5K words | a fic inspired by the above fic!

Lan WangJi presses a kiss into his throat, which draws a shivering whine from him. "Like this," he agrees, his voice so low. Then he slides one warm elegant hand down Wei WuXian's chest to his belly, and then to his — to his —

fan ending for acernor's fabulous masterpiece "coming back to yourself" because i'm a huge goofball and that fic fucks

Our Eyes on the Road by etymologyplayground | rated E | 23K words | brought to you by lore (the author) and Orville Peck's hit song Drive Me, Crazy

Lan Zhan is silent for a long moment, and the van's speakers quietly pipe the second song on the album into the empty space between them. Then Lan Zhan shifts his hand a little on Wei Ying's leg, presses his fingers once into the meat of his thigh. "Alright," he says.

"Alright," Wei Ying echoes in a wheeze.

"Is that better?" Lan Zhan checks, because he is a good boy. Then he spreads his fingers out a little wider, because he is evil and must be stopped.

Lan Zhan is driving to Chicago. Wei Ying tags along.

Worship you till morning comes by feyburner | rated E | 7K words

A meet-cute, a first date, a sleepover.

Let's take a ride round the curves of desire by feyburner | rated E | 6K words | yeah........... uhh, yeah.

Wei Ying was sprawled on the floor in front of the oscillating fan when Lan Zhan got home from work.

The Roots Grow Riotous by hansbekhart | rated E | 105K words | a beautifully crafted, emotionally harrowing fic. i should warn you (since it's not quite tagged as such) that while wangxian is endgame, the overall story doesn't have the sort of happily-ever-after ending you might expect. i’ve seen it described as open-ended but hopeful and cathartic, which i find to be a pretty accurate assessment

Sometimes Lan Zhan doesn’t work through lunch. Sometimes he makes conversation with coworkers in the halls. Sometimes he goes home instead of spending the last hour trawling through Grindr. But mostly, that’s exactly what he does. The sameness is comforting. His life spools out in easily measured increments: capsule collections, yards of hand dyed textiles, ninety day lead times, sell through figures, cost of goods sold.

Every date in manufacturing can be calculated backwards and forward from a single horizon point: the date that the goods must arrive into the country where they'll be sold. Other than that, nothing else really matters.

总有一天; a place to hide (can’t find one near) by yiqie | rated E | 76K words | i can't recall a fic ever affecting me as much as this one did. one of the best stories i've ever read. so, so, so crushingly beautiful. it's viscerally distressing/upsetting at times, especially at the start, so please heed the tags and author's note (they provide a way to skip the beginning scene if needed)!

That’s just the thing, isn’t it? Wei Ying feels nothing. He doesn’t feel anything, and this emptiness should scare him. He knows he should be scared. He wants to be scared. He isn’t. Fear itself is never scary; fear is just a response. It means that your body wants you alive. It’s the absence of terror that scares him.

请兔子吃晚饭; treating a bunny to dinner by yiqie | rated T | 3K words | read this one to recover from the above fic

It’s not really about the food. Being able to share it in the same space is its own kind of magic.

爱不释手; never let me go by yiqie | rated E | 69K words | and then read this one to feel harrowed again, this time in canon-verse!

Wei Wuxian has certainly hoped so ardently in his two lifetimes, for so many different things, in so many different ways, that he could have summoned the demon to his front door with his bare hands. His eyes wander to Lan Zhan, settle on the back of his head, the blue-black curtain of his hair. Oh, how he has hoped.

在此恭迎夷陵老祖; to yiling laozu, the great and venerable by yiqie | rated M | 7K words | read this one to recover from the above fic (this time in canon-verse)

“You don’t know? In Yiling, there’s a tree at the edge of town, one that stands at the fringes of where the city ends and the Burial Mounds begin, called the Lover’s Tree. They say if you write a letter and nail it to its branches, Yiling Laozu will receive it, and he’ll reply.”

你的阳光下; wanna hide in your light by yiqie | rated T | 2K words | :')

Lan Zhan shuts off the water before it can start getting cold, because Wei Ying still needs to take one. Any other day, Wei Ying would have slunk in, pretending to be annoyed that Lan Zhan started without him, and neither of them would have want for hot water, but Wei Ying is still asleep.

From my heart's ground. by orange_crushed | rated E | 38K words | get (orange) CRUSHED!!!!!!!

After a while he can feel a palm against his face, gentle fingers soft and soothing. It’s not real, not exactly: he can tell the difference between a ghost’s touch and a living person’s, between a spirit-vision and an overactive imagination. His education has been thorough. But the beating has also been thorough, so for now he forgets what he knows and leans into it, into the hand cupping his cheek. It’s soft and dry as those forgotten petals, as the touch of a pillow. He can smell wildflowers, can taste blood and dirt. My baby, his mother says, and he closes his eyes. My treasure. He barely remembers the sound of her voice, but the feeling of it is just the same. Just the same as ever.

[In which Lan Wangji loses almost everything, plants a garden, and grows a second chance.]

Pentimento. by orange_crushed | rated E | 73K words | this fic briefly gave me a serious case of career envy :/ ......but seriously, this is an absolute must-read!!!

When Wangji was eighteen he’d walked into the first class of his fall semester painting module and there’d been a boy in a hilariously ugly floppy knit hat sitting cross-legged on the floor at the front of the room. He’d had a sheet of canvas paper taped to his board and his board clamped between his legs and a tackle box of brushes and tubes—a real fishing tackle box, with a fish-shaped logo on it that said BASS, not one of the nice art supply storage boxes they sold in the campus bookstore, like the one Wangji was carrying—open beside him. Everyone else had settled into the rows of stools and easels, but that boy had stayed on the floor for the whole two hour and thirty minute studio. Wangji had looked at him and thought, that idiot’s back is going to hurt.

[Former best friends Lan Wangji, paintings conservator, and Wei Wuxian, art handler, meet again and realize... neither of them were actually in unrequited love.]

Many happy returns. by orange_crushed | rated E | 25K words

His fingers are still clasped between Wangji's. In the mirror Wangji watches him tuck his coat between his thighs so that he can fuss with the tucked-in hem of his shirt, tousle up the side of his hair, all one-handed. "I hope what I'm wearing is okay."

"It's good," Wangji says. "You look good."

"I guess I must," Wei Ying says, and then he smiles and bites his teeth into his bottom lip for a second, devastatingly, and before Wangji can drop dead the doors to the elevator slide open, and the hostess station appears.

[In which lonely businessman Lan Wangji meets the right wrong person and changes the course of his life.]

The dreamers. by orange_crushed | rated E | 17K words

“Stop mothering me,” Wei Ying protests. “Why don’t you ever listen?” He scowls at Wangji, but then the lure of the clean water is too much; he sits grumbling and strips off his vambraces and loosens the collar of his robes and wipes himself down in the steam. Wangji sits on a stool and watches him, and after a while Wei Ying slaps the rag into the bowl and glares back. “Are you going to sit and stare the whole time?” he demands. “You want to see me strip naked and give my filthy evil self a good scrubbing, huh?”

Yes, Wangji thinks.

[This is a story about a horrible war and a beautiful dream; about grabbing happiness where you can find it, and not letting go.]

mercy, tear it down. by orange_crushed | rated E | 31K words

“You want me to call you good?” Wangji says. “To make you feel good?” Wei Ying makes a wretched, soft, surprised sound in the back of his throat. “Then will you be good?”

“Uh,” Wei Ying says. His lashes flick down again, nervously. “Good how?”

Wangji hasn’t quite thought that far ahead.

Kingfisher Feathers by Anonymous | rated E | 83K words | WIP (7/10 chapters, last updated 4/13/21) | omg omegaverse!!!! @/ this anon author... keep up the great work! also i have feelings for u

With an almost trance-like detachment, Wei Wuxian touched his own neck, his fingers skimming over the fresh mark. The bite wound had stopped bleeding, although he had no doubts it would open again if agitated.

Bonded.

He was bonded for life.

"Shit," he whispered. He looked over at the sleeping form of Lan Wangji—the Second Prince of Gusu and, until his brother was found, the sole heir to the throne. "Oh, shit. Lan Qiren is going to kill me."

----------

Lan Wangji goes into a fevered rut and accidentally bonds with Wei Wuxian. When they next meet, he remembers none of it, and Wei Wuxian is determined to keep the bond a secret—even when he's sent to the Cloud Recesses to be a consort in Lan Wangji's harem.

(tl;dr concubine!wwx is already married to emperor!lwj, who has no idea. drama ensues.)

Pull out game weak by 74243 | rated E | 23K words | featuring the hottest meanest dom top lesbian lwj of your wildest dreams. i hope ao3 user 74243 is having an amazing day

Wei Ying swipes right.

Extra Time by Anonymous | rated E | 28K words | fic inspired by the above fic! seriously good

How Wei Ying learned to stop worrying and love the strap (an AU of 74243's Pull out game weak)

Superfan by 74243 | rated E | 19K words | ao3 user 74243 writing banger after banger as per usual

“I’m not going to apologize for my job,” Wei Ying said, “so if you want to give me some kind of lecture--”

“No,” Lan Zhan said. “You misunderstood. I am...” she paused, as if considering the best way to put it. “I’m a fan.”

Spit in my mouth, look in my eyes by 74243 | rated E | 7K works | i'm just going to list all of ao3 user 74243's fics, ok? that's what's gonna happen here

Wei Wuxian was a little surprised herself, although she felt bad for being surprised. Of course it didn’t really mean anything about you, how you presented, Wei Wuxian knew that better than anyone, but all the same it was hard to reconcile Lan Zhan as an omega.

(wwx makes an error of judgment)

If the shoe fits by 74243 | rated E | 8K words

Wei Ying loses a bet.

the And they were roommates series by 74243 | rated E | 19K words total

That was the other thing, when Wei Ying had moved in. She’d scented Lan Zhan immediately, the sandalwood and smoke rising off her, almost before she’d taken in Lan Zhan’s straight posture, her narrowed eyes. She’d known that Lan Zhan could tell, too. At the end, when they’d talked about the rent and Lan Zhan’s nearly finished PhD and Wei Ying’s working hours, Wei Ying had said, casual and effortless, “And you don’t mind that I’m an omega.”

“No,” Lan Zhan said.

Chef's kiss by 74243 | rated E | 7K words

Wei Ying said, “You know, in some ways I’m kind of depressed. I took your biggest dick on my first try. Now I don’t have anything to build up to.”

“There are bigger ones available,” Lan Zhan said lazily. “I can pay for express shipping.”

(Lan Zhan works the late shift.)

Gold-palmed Warrior Quest! by 74243 | rated E | 13K words

When Lan Wangji suggested that they camp along the way to the Unclean Realm, rather than staying at inns, Wei Wuxian had been sceptical.

Dway! by 74243 | rated E | 6K words

“Hm,” Wei Ying said. “You like it rough, though, right? You seem like that kind of alpha.” When she saw Lan Zhan’s expression she raised an eyebrow. “What? Was I wrong? Are you tender and sweet? Do you cry?”

“You were not wrong,” Lan Zhan said. “I do not cry. Do you?”

tgif by 74243 | rated E | 17K words

Today Lan Zhan says that if Wei Ying cannot control her mouth then she will have to tape it shut.

On the ground by 74243 | rated E | 5K words

“I think you will like it,” Lan Zhan said.

Does your mother know by 74243 | rated E | 5K words | editing this rec list on a monday morning to add this brand new fic fresh off the presses. thank u ao3 user 74243 for feeding us so well 🙏

“Lan Zhan is such a well-behaved girl,” Madam Yu said.

all that and more by Euphorion | rated E | 20K words

Wei Wuxian locks his phone and puts it down, blinks at his ceiling, and picks it up again. The pictures are still there.

His first thought is that Lan Zhan meant them for someone else. That he just woke up at—he checks the timestamp—6:30 am on a Sunday and decided to go absolute full nuclear seduction option on some poor boy he met on Grindr, who would now be missing out on the best thing to ever happen to him because Wei Wuxian had a bad habit of distracting—of—oh.

Pieces of last night start to resurface and paste themselves together in his head. He winces.

The Golden Cutsleeve by syrus_jones | rated E | 77K words | of my faves, this is one of my favorite... faves. top faves. incredibly fun and silly and hot. just... oh my GOD, wei YING!

“I know! Why don’t you try it? Let me go and I’ll lend it to you!” Wei Wuxian bribed hysterically, desperate to escape from this encounter by any means necessary. And then, his eyes blew wide, realizing what he just said. ‘Wait— just what am I offering Lan Zhan?!’ he thought. How was he so stupid, how did he just offer that without thinking—

“You want me...to use it… after you?” Lan Zhan asked, his voice unusually faint.

~*~

Wei Wuxian's test of mysterious, literally magical sex toy goes awry when Lan Wangji finds him in the woods 'experimenting' with it and it ends up in Lan Wangji's possession.

Unfortunately, neither of them is aware that the toy is anchored to Wei Wuxian's body. Too bad Wei Wuxian invited him to try it.

Boy Trouble, We've Got Double by saltyfeathers | rated E | 60K words | !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! this is a really good fic

Lan Zhan stands there in his immaculate, cloud-patterned Lan robes, watching him calmly, one fist tucked up against his back. “I am betrothed.”

Wei Wuxian blinks. “Are you…” He tries to laugh. Again, it sounds inhuman. “Is this about last night? Are you mad at me? I only remember some of it, Lan Zhan. I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable. I’m sure whatever I did I was just—” He gestures uselessly. He remembers being warm in Lan Zhan’s lap. He remembers fitting snugly in Lan Zhan’s lap. Wrapping his arms around Lan Zhan’s neck. Nosing at his jaw. “…playing around.”

“This has nothing to do with you, Wei Wuxian.”

none in the forest so bright as these by saltyfeathers | rated E | 6K words

Wei Wuxian puts a hand to his head, brain lost in fog. “Lan Zhan,” he pants. “Why are we here? Are we on a hunt?”

As Lan Zhan tries to remember, his brow furrows. He shakes his head slightly. “I don’t know.”

“This is bad,” Wei Wuxian says. When Lan Zhan cups his cheek again, sparks burst behind Wei Wuxian’s eyes. “Or maybe it’s not,” he says unthinkingly. Sighs, almost. Lan Zhan looks at his own arm like it's betrayed him. Wei Wuxian closes his eyes and presses his face into Lan Zhan’s palm. “Lan Zhan, Lan Zhan,” he murmurs. “What’s happening to us?”

out in the garden, there’s things you hid away by saltyfeathers | rated E | 121K words | oww oww oww 😣😣😣💘

There is a man with empty eye sockets and tears of fire in Wei Wuxian’s dreams. Tendrils of smoke curl around him in sleep, pressing at his most vulnerable spots, seeking entrance, slipping between his ribs.

When he ignores Lan Zhan's offers of help, he declines rapidly. He will die. Or, he should. Anyone else would.

Instead, he flees. And transforms.

crawling through your door by saltyfeathers | rated E | 12K words

Lan Wangji kisses him. When he pulls away, he speaks into the silence between them, because when he is with Wei Ying, he so rarely considers. “Why don’t you touch me anymore?”

Lan Zhan Works for the Historical Society by saltyfeathers | rated E | 7K words | some real real good lesbian action up in here

Pretty Lan Zhan. Beautiful Lan Zhan. Ice queen Lan Zhan. So intimidating and femme and coldly polite in public, yet meaner than a man in the bedroom. Wei Ying has slept with men before and none of them were mean-nice to her like Lan Zhan.

threadfic by saltyfeathers | not rated (each chapter rated/tagged individually) | 34K+ words | WIP (11/? chapters, last updated 3/15/21), but it’s a collection of stand-alone oneshots

semi cleaned-up wangxian twitter threadfic.

【已經打動我的心】So Sing To Me All Night by aroceu | rated T | 10K words | arrow writes wei ying so exquisitely well. i was weepy the whole time read this fic. for the best experience, i recommend following along with the accompanying spotify playlist.

No one listens to the radio in this day and age, but somehow from a bunch of left clicking and right clicking, through Facebook and Twitter and Youtube, Wei Ying finds himself on the WQHS homepage—the UPenn student radio station, promising eclectic tastes from a variety of hosts. Wei Ying can't remember giving a shit about his old college's student radio before he dropped out, but it's eleven at night and he has nothing else better to do. He clicks on the button that says Listen Here! and waits to be impressed.

get wild by aroceu | rated E | 24K words | 🔥🏀🔥 BASKETBALL FIC 🔥🏀🔥

He was looking for a specific reaction—to get Lan Zhan to lash out. All hard edges and demanding, the same way during the first scrim, Lan Zhan's dark voice had made him loose and obedient, itching to both rebel and obey at the same time.

It's them, whatever it is, but it doesn't belong on the basketball court.

Wei Ying didn't expect to enter a weird... something-with-benefits-plus-power-play with the captain of the Gusu basketball team. He's not sure if it's worth it.

without a warning by aroceu | rated T | 10K words | 🥺️🥺️🥺️

“Blegh,” Wei Ying says. “I hate being sick, Lan Zhan… my throat is so sore… why do I talk so much?”

“Stop talking then,” Lan Zhan says.

“You don’t mean that,” Wei Ying says, in his half-asleep daze. “I know you’ll never admit it, Lan Zhan, but you like it when I talk.”

your honor i’m a freak bitch by aroceu | rated E | 6K words

Wei Ying gestures to his outfit. His hands are buried deep within the hoodie; he’s mostly gesturing with the sleeves. “Well, it works with the whole get up, you see?”

“The…” Lan Zhan looks down at where his fingers are toying with the top of Wei Ying’s thigh highs. Wei Ying pretends he is not shivering. “…skirt. And these stockings.”

“Thigh highs, Lan Zhan!” Wei Ying says, batting at him with the end of a sleeve.

Play It By Ear by aroceu | rated T | 7K words | MY HEART !!!

In the virtual airplane flying over the island, appropriately called Yiling, Lan Zhan watches as bits and pieces of the island load in. There are many Statues of David, a gothic teacup ride, and, from what Lan Zhan can see, an entire field of spoiled turnips.

hanguang-jun @/hanguangjun Do you need turnips to sell?

timmy and tommy in a trenchcoat @/yilinglaozu oh! no haha! 😅 those are from a while ago but my brother insists i keep them there

for the ~aesthetic~

the key that our souls were singing by aroceu | rated M | 5K words

“I haven’t seen you since—Gusu, was it?” Wei Ying says. “Oh my god, it’s been so long. I didn’t even know you were LGBT! Unless you’re here as an ally, which is also totally cool—”

“No, I.” Lan Zhan coughs. Her throat feels dry. “I am a lesbian.”

abort retry fail by aroceu | rated E | 21K words

Lan Wangji must miss his husband over this amnesiac of a man Wei Wuxian has turned into. Well, Wei Wuxian will show him! He'll be even better—or at least, try to be just as good of a husband as he would be, without his memory loss.

Blackout If You Were Mine by aroceu | rated E | 9K words

Wei Ying likes to wear chokers a lot. So Lan Zhan buys some for him. Then, testing their limits, collars.

Wei Ying wears those, too.

Or, the one where Wei Ying and Lan Zhan accidentally stumble into a BDSM relationship.

eleven thousand meters & airborne by aroceu | rated E | 5K words | 😎✈️😎

Lan Zhan and Wei Ying join the mile high club.

many fox given by defractum | rated E | 24K words | can't go wrong with foxxian and dragonji content 🦊🐉

Lan Zhan is glaring at him. That's probably fair.

The last time they'd seen each other, Wei Ying had been digging through Lan Zhan's garbage. They'd made eye contact over the shredded bags, the week's trash scattered around him like stinky, oversized Lego.

Lan Zhan's eyes had been wide with horror, and Wei Ying's had been equally wide with feigned innocence. He'd reached out slowly, maintaining the eye contact, and then flipped over the food waste bin full of onion peel and carrot skin as a distraction and slunk off into the night. Probably not his finest moment.

Modern AU dragon!LWJ meets fox!WWX.

the tamed by defractum | rated E | 12K words

If the Second Jade of Lan insists on bringing the Yiling Patriarch as his guest to the next Cultivation Conference, he must first demonstrate a control over the Yiling Patriarch and his unnatural abilities.

The letter lies on their desk for days.

Post-canon, Wei Ying is invited, sort of, to a Discussion Conference.

us in a king-size, keep it a secret (say i'm your queen, i don't wanna leave this) by matcha_ado | rated E | 3K words

People always said Wei Ying was a royal pain in the ass. They were absolutely right, of course, just not in the way they thought.

it is wednesday my dudes by jelenedra | rated M | 4K words

Wednesday nights at Cloud Recesses strip club are always a little weird, but usually they're not this horny. Whatever Wei Ying and Lan Zhan get up to, Mianmian is not going to be the one to clean it up.

i'm the one for your fire by occultings | rated E | 43K words | cherry magic au! love it

Wei Ying, virgin and noted heterosexual, gets hit with a curse of an unusual nature on his 30th birthday — through physical contact, he can read the minds of others around him.

Enter Lan Zhan, hot former rival and current coworker, whose true thoughts about Wei Ying are nothing like he expects. (A loose Cherry Magic AU)

a thousand teeth, yours among them by darkredloveknot | rated E | 11K words

A one night stand in the time of zombies.

hoe to housewife pipeline by lanzhancore | rated E | 5K words

“You type fast,” Wei Ying murmurs, making a futile attempt at conversation while he waits for him to be done with… whatever. “Not to be pushy, but do you plan on fucking my ass anytime soon?”

or: wei ying has been thirsting after lan zhan for three slutty slutty years

can you feel it by lanzhancore | rated E | an instant classic

“What’s wrong?” Wei Ying asks finally, eyebrows drawn together. “Is everything okay?”

Thumbs stroking circles into his skin as if to comfort him, Lan Zhan says, “Don’t panic.”

“Lan Zhan,” Wei Ying says, sitting up on his elbows. “What did you do to my ass?”

“Nothing,” Lan Zhan says, convincing nobody. “But we need to go to the hospital.”

or: wei ying really should have sprung for the model with the flared base. he learns this lesson the hard way.

because you're mine (i walk the line) by lanzhancore | rated E | 8K words

Wei Ying is freshly cream-pied and still trying to remember where his legs are when Lan Zhan outlaws masturbation.

or: wei ying fucks around and finds out

payload by lanzhancore | rated M | 3K words | babysitter wwx + dilfji, what more could you need

Wei Ying has a whole five hours and thirty-six minutes to calm down but when he hears Lan Zhan’s key turning in the front door lock later that evening he has to cling to the couch cushions to keep from marching into the laundry room to retrieve the briefs so he can wave them in Lan Zhan’s face and demand to know who owns them.

or: lan zhan's self-restraint is not limitless

the to the brim series by verseau | rated E | 14K words total

Wei Ying wants to rob him, but it wouldn’t even be satisfying, since this guy is just—giving away money. With his nice fingers. Maybe Wei Ying will just bite his fingers, and that will give the same endorphin rush as robbing him. / a day told across five parts.

get that message home by verseau | rated G | 2K words | ohhhhhhhhh myyyyy godddddd 😭

Sizhui's father cannot haggle. It is a shame on Sizhui’s honor to have such an honest father.

Author's note [i'm including it here because it's golden]:

there is a scene in arrested development where lucille, who is on the opposite spectrum of humanity as lan zhan, asks, "it's a banana, michael. how much could one cost? ten dollars?" there are no bananas in this story.

dreaming and getting a glimmer by verseau | rated E | 27K words | a particular favorite of mine 🔥🍆💦🕳🔥

Wei Ying discovers himself.

trust your fingertips by plonk | not rated (but really rated E) | 15K word | 🥵️🥵️🥵️🥵️🥵️ plonk you’ve done it again!

Lan Wangji must suppress a shiver at every brush and press of Wei Wuxian’s fingers.

Under different circumstances - less public ones - he would welcome touch, given that his body is in such an aroused state.

Alas, his circumstances are these: sitting quietly while Wei Wuxian, the famous (infamous) Doctor of Yunmeng, digs his fingertips into Lan Wangji’s shoulders and chest and sides and hums thoughtfully.

Doctor, Doctor by YunmengLotus | rated E | 4K words | mmmmhmm!

Wei Ying needs to get a prostate exam. How ever will he deal when the world's hottest doctor walks through the exam room door and tells him to bend over?

TAKOYAKI by ariskamalt | rated E | 3K words | lan zhan gets jealous of his own damn appendages. meanwhile, wei ying is just having a good time.

Lan Zhan…cannot always feel or tell what his tentacles will do.

His free hand curls into a fist. Underneath his skin, the tentacles give a little squirm, as if aware of the challenge he has just issued them. No touching Wei Ying unless he says so, because he wants to touch Wei Ying first. They squirm again, as if to say, Tentacles: 1, Lan Zhan: 0.

That will just have to be remedied.

Or, as phnelt first described: Tentacle-ji with the semi autonomous tentacles getting jealous of his tenties for touching Wei Ying in places he hasn't yet

Outage by SugarMilkTea | rated E | 3K words | [cough] 😳😳😳

The power goes out in Lan Zhan and Wei Ying's rural home in the countryside. Lan Zhan takes advantage of the darkness to give in to one of his baser urges, and Wei Ying's first rural power outage experience is about to get a lot more interesting.

big hands (i know you’re the one) by martyrsdaughter | rated E | 8K words | NICE. 🔥🔥🔥

“Not a big talker, hm?” Wei Ying tilts his head to one side. “That’s okay, I’ve been told I’m a good enough conversationalist for three. My tongue is multi-talented and—”

He has just enough time to feel her palm on the back of his neck and think, oh, her hands are so big, before his words are being stolen into her mouth.

darling, am i a chore? by martyrsdaughter | rated E | 7K words

“Are you done playing around?”

Knowing that’s not what either of them actually wants, Wei Wuxian reaches up to tickle under Lan Wangji’s chin. Soft little scritches, coaxing motions—Lan Wangji is weak to all of them.

“You know what I want,” Wei Wuxian purrs, reaching up on his tiptoes to throw his arms over Lan Wangji’s shoulders. “Call me gege, won’t you? Call me and I’ll stop.”

(or: five times Lan Wangji paid special attention to Wei Wuxian’s interest in being his gege.)

put him on his knees, give him something to believe in by dustyloves | rated E | 2K words | if the title is quoting WAP, then you should know by now it’s gonna be some of that good filth

The next time Wei Ying kisses him, Lan Zhan is careful again. Wei Ying seems determined to make it very difficult.

the hard way by dustyloves | rated E | 9K words

"Anyway, you make it sound like something lewd is going on," Wei Ying complains. "It's all totally above board. She's just being a nice person. It's just one kind alpha grad student offering one room of her huge house to one beta undergrad in need, what could be more appropriate than that?"

// Wei Ying makes a mistake and finds out the hard way.

Exhibition by sevenless | rated E | 5K words

“Oh?” Wei Wuxian raises an eyebrow. “The forbidden section, Lan Zhan?”

“Mn.”

“You’re not afraid of being heard?” Wei Wuxian thinks aloud. A smirk creeps onto his face, eyes glinting. “Or could it be that Lan-er-gongzi actually wants to be heard? Seen? Caught?” He skips in front of him, blocking his way. "Disciplined?”

Lan Wangji’s ears, as always, betray him.

a history of the body by northofallmusic | rated E | 14K words

Wei Ying's body hurts sometimes; she lets Lan Zhan help her.

A fic about the complicated nature of having a body, and also the versatility of sex toys.

(our friendship) up against the ropes by daltoneering | rated E | 36K words

The reboot completes, and Wei Ying’s brain smashes this information together into two mind-shattering thoughts. Number one, he knew very well already, and is now further seared by defined muscles and a mouth-watering tattoo into his every waking moment: Lan Zhan is the hottest fucking person on the planet.

Number two: that guy wasn’t visiting Lan Zhan’s neighbour, he was visiting Lan Zhan, which means:

Lan Zhan fucks. Lan Zhan fucks. Lan Zhan fucks.

;

Lan Zhan has been Wei Ying's best friend for years. Literally, years. How did he not already know? How has he missed this most important of facts? And more importantly, how is he ever going to get over it?

watching my heart go round by typefortydeductions | rated E | 38K+ words | WIP (2/4 chapters, last updated 5/2/21) | lan zhan i love you baby 💞

Lan Zhan falls apart. As it turns out, that's not the end.

oh man this list is so long sd;jfkdsjfhhh

yati, i hope you find some stuff in this pile here that you’ll enjoy! it's not an exhaustive list, so check out the authors’ other works and bookmarks for more goods, if you feel so inclined 😙💕

#darlingbenny #mdzs #fic rec #nsfw!

38 notes · View notes

larryfanficwriter98 · 3 years

Text

Chapter Thirteen

*Fake It Until You Make It Real*

This can be very emotional and even triggering to some people however there is nothing bad that happens except a child having an emotional reaction to a shitty situation.

Sunday morning Harry woke up early but had taken one look at Louis curled up against his chest and had promptly pushed any thoughts of leaving the bed out of his head. As if sensing Harry's change of plans Louis curled up closer to him in his sleep. Harry kept am arm around Louis' waist as he grabbed his phone and lowered the brightness down so it didn't wake Louis up. He had a message from Gem and when he opened it he saw screenshots of his and Louis' social media profiles and a message under them.

Now that we've met him and definitely approve I think it's time to make it official don't you little bro? Go on and slap it on social media, make sure to post pictures with his butt visible. 😉👌

Harry shook his head but knew his sister was right. It was time to make it social media official and so he headed to Facebook and updated his relationship status to engaged and sent a relationship request to Louis. He then went to Instagram and updated his bio so it said he was engaged to Louis. After that was done he locked his phone and grabbed the remote turn the TV on keeping it at a low volume as Louis slept.

"Well this is nice. You should definitely stay in bed more often." Louis said thirty minutes later as he looked at Harry.

"I'm thinking about it. Though I might need some persuasion." Louis leaned up and pressed a chaste kiss to Harry's lips before he laid back down and cuddling closer to him. Harry honestly just enjoyed the cuddling, it had been a long time since he has cuddled someone. He knew there was a good portion of people awake downstairs, could hear their voices, but he had no desire to get out of his warm bed.

"We should get down there. We're being bad hosts." Louis said

"I know." Harry groaned before he was trying to motivate himself out of bed. It didn't work right away but eventually he was rolling out of bed and getting himself ready for the day. Louis doing the same a few minutes later. Louis stole one of Harry's sweaters and Harry grinned as he watched the way the extra fabric moved around as he brushed his teeth while Harry waited for him to finish. He also not so subtly watched him bend over the sink to spit out the tooth paste. Once he was done they headed downstairs together to see everyone was awake.

"Good morning. Jay and I made breakfast for everyone. Should be still warm." Anne greeted them

"You didn't have to do that. I was awake you just had to come and get me." Harry said

"Yeah but Louis looked comfortable when I saw you two so I didn't want to wake him."

"Harry gets out of bed every morning without waking me. I'm sure he would have managed." Louis said sending a glare towards Harry as he headed into the kitchen.

"He doesn't like it when I leave the bed. Says I take all the heat with me and it forces him out of bed." Harry told them as he sat in the oversized chaise while Louis headed into the kitchen.

"So we never did get to talk about the wedding. Have you picked a location? The flowers? The time? The honeymoon? Y'know Brazil is beautiful I know you loved it last time we visited as a family. Remember you wanted to stay at the pink place."

"I'm pretty sure Harry wanted to live there when he was twenty." Gemma said

"Louis and I have decided to take the kids on a holiday with us, a family vacation. As soon as the judge approves it which my lawyers says there isn't any reason why he wouldn't, I'll get it ran by the school. I think we've decided on Orlando there's Disney, Universal, SeaWorld, and other big things to do with kids and such. Then during spring break or the summer holidays we'll take a week away together somewhere else."

"I haven't agreed to that yet." Louis said from the kitchen

"I'll hogtie you." Harry told him, "Don't worry I'll have him in a hut on a beach without kids eventually. Or in a hotel right beside the Iguazu Falls in Brazil or Argentina."

"Or a summer trip with the kids." Louis said

"Or a private trip with a promise of loud uninterrupted-"

"Harold." Louis warned making their families laugh when Harry put his hands up in surrender.

"I was going to say playtime."

"That's even worse."

"How about the hokey pokey in our birthday suit?" Louis laughed loudly

"If you have to pokey the hokey then you're clearly doing it wrong Harry." Anne said

"Maybe we like to pokey the hokey mother." Harry said throwing a balled up piece of paper at her as Louis walked into the room shaking his head. He sat across Harry's lap so his back was pressed against the arm of the chaise. His plate of food piled high sat on his lap and his mug of tea was set on the coffee table.

"For the record if you ever poke me we're getting a divorce." Louis told him

"You ruin all of my fun. You won't have sex with me with our mothers here and you won't let me play hokey pokey with you naked. Next you'll be telling me I can't wear a lace teddy around the house with the kids home."

"Absolutely not." Louis said shaking his head as he cut into the pancake, "at least not while the kids are home." Harry laughed

"You're restricting my teddy wearing time. Geesh. I think I purposed too soon." Louis stabbed a piece of pancake and offered it to Harry watching as he leaned forwards and ate the piece off the fork.

***

After breakfast Louis was in the kitchen with Anne and Jay as they cleaned up from yesterday and breakfast. A loud banging came from the door causing them to jump from the suddenness.

"Are you guys expecting company?" Anne asked

"Not that I know of." Louis said as he dried his hands and headed to the front door. Louis unlocked the bolt and pulled the door open. He pulled his eyebrows together confused when he saw a police officer, Hannah, and her boyfriend standing there.

"Are you Mr. Styles?"

"No, but I am his fiancé why?"

"Can we come in?" Louis hesitated looking back for Harry but he still wasn't inside so he nodded and allowed them into the entry way closing the door behind them, "Does your fiancé still have his daughter here?"

"Yes of course. He has her for the week per her mother's....request."

"That's a lie I told him he could have her for Halloween, but he had to bring her back home Halloween night. I gave him last night out of kindness, but now I still don't have my daughter and I'm starting to worry about her. I have texts between him and I saying he wouldn't give her back. It's why I called the police." Hannah said tearfully, Louis laughed unable to help himself.

"First off Harry has it on video of you telling him to keep her for the week or not at all. Secondly Harry hasn't had his phone on him all morning. I do because he asked me to go get for him from the bedroom but then he went outside with the kids so he never got it from me. Thirdly any text Harry has gotten I haven't responded to or looked at because it's none of my business. Fourth call the number you were texting because I guarantee it won't ring Harry's phone."

"Hey what's going on?" Harry asked jogging up to them, "I thought you were going to America this week?" He said looking at Hannah.

"Mr. Styles, Miss. Carpenter claims you were suppose to take your daughter back home last night and that you are threatening her through texts of keeping your daughter from her."

"I don't even have my phone on me and Hannah and I don't text. Everything is on the phone or in person. Our lawyers demanded it since anyone could be Hannah in my phone and anyone could be me in hers. Any communications we have is to be recorded and sent to our respective lawyers. This isn't the first time Hannah has tried to charge me with parental kidnapping."

"I'm going to have to make sure that's the truth. Hand over your phone."

"Wait you're not even going to call the number she was texting. Make sure it was his phone in the first place." Louis asked the officer paused and looked at Louis before he turned to Hannah who looked offended by just the idea of it.

"Excuse me. We are here for my daughter."

"I have to investigate both sides of the story. Find out who is lying. Give me your phone please."

"No we are here to get my daughter from Harry and take her home not for you to turn around and accuse me just because my ex boyfriend's fuck toy spoke. Besides he shouldn't even be involved in this conversation."

"Louis is my fiancé and has every right to be here. So unless Daniel is leaving, Louis stays. Look I can show you the video where Hannah told me I have her for the week." Harry said but the officer shook his head

"It won't matter. She has custody and you have no legal visitation or right to have her in your house if the mother doesn't want her here. Unfortunately that means she can press charges for parental kidnapping if you don't let her take her daughter." The officer said looking like he didn't want to be the one telling Harry those words, "I'm really sorry but I'm going to have to ask you to go get your daughter and let her mother take her home."

"Okay." Harry said softly

"Okay?" Louis said shocked

"Louis please. If I fight or argue it can look bad on me. The judge won't look at the body cam footage and see a father wanting to see his daughter for more than a day, he's going to see a big man yelling at, not only a woman, but the mother of his child. That is all he is going to see. That is all they ever see because she has sob stories prepared to make me look bad. I have lost a lot of cases because I fought too hard, because I raised my voice, because she cried in my presence. I can't do anything except comply I can't have a parental kidnapping charge while fighting for visitation." Harry said gently, "can you please just go get Maddie for me?" Louis wanted to argue, wanted to yell and curse at Hannah because how dare she stand there smirking while she took Harry's daughter away just because. How dare she call herself a mother. But Louis nodded pressing a quick kiss to Harry's cheek and headed to the glass sliding doors watching Maddie and Freddie running and laughing on the playset.

"Maddison can you come here for a minute?" Louis asked just loud enough to be heard over the laughter filling the backyard. Maddison and Freddie looked his way before they ran up to him with large smiles and red faces, "come on Maddison, Freddie stay out here with Zayn alright?" Louis said as he felt Zayn squeeze past him with a reassuring squeeze to his shoulder.

"Come on Freddie bet you can't run faster than me." Louis owed Zayn a nice dinner as he watched Freddie run off yelling after him. He gently led Maddison inside the house and closed the glass door and led her to where Harry was with Hannah, Daniel, and the officer.

"I will have these screenshots and body camera sent to your respective lawyers so they each have a copy for the court meeting." The officer was saying

"Thank you." Harry said shaking his hand before he turned to them, "hey princess you have to go with your mom."

"What? Why?" Maddie asked looking between Harry and Hannah, "you promised. You promised I'd stay with Daddy all week." Maddie said looking at Hannah

"Yes well I've changed my mind now come on we need to go. We still have to pick up the cookies from the shop for career day tomorrow. Remember."

"You're not going to career day tomorrow?" Louis asked looking at Harry who clearly knew nothing about it.

"Mom says daddy has to work." Maddie told Louis

"I'm off tomorrow. What's career day?"

"It doesn't matter Daniel is going. He is with her everyday after all. Much more her dad than you are. Come on Maddie we are leaving." Hannah said grabbing Maddie's wrist only for Maddie to yank it out of her grip.

"YOU LIED! YOU SAID YOU CALLED DADDY AND HE SAID HE COULDN'T COME! IM NOT LEAVING! IT'S NOT FAIR!" Maddie yelled

"You are leaving right now come on." Hannah snapped grabbing Maddie's arm again.

"NO! NO NO NO NO NO! NO!" Maddie screamed fighting out of her mother's grip, "DADDY! DADDY PLEASE! SHE SAID A WEEK! SHE PROMISED!"

Louis had tears in his eyes as he watched this beautiful little girl fall apart in a way only a child in a such a bad situation could. She was crying, screaming, kicking, flailing, doing everything she could to fight off Hannah. Louis looked at Harry and could see the pain in his face as he tried to make her let go of him when she hugged his waist begging him to keep her.

"Maddison that is enough. Stand up and let's go." Hannah said

"I HATE YOU! I HATE YOU! I HATE YOU!" Maddie screamed as she was dragged out of the house, "DADDY! DADDY PLEASE! SHE PROMISED A WEEK! SHE PROMISED! DADDY! LET ME GO! LOULOU! LOUIS! LOUIS DON'T LET HER TAKE ME! LOUIS PLEASE!" Louis took a step forward fully prepared to go to jail to stop Maddie's pain but a strong arm wrapped around his waist and kept him there.

"Harry let me go. Harry let go of me." Louis hissed pushing his arm off of him and running outside, he pulled Maddie into tight loving hug before Hannah could put her in the car, "It'll be okay. Hush darling it'll be okay. Relax. Deep breaths. There you go. Easy breathing...there you go." Louis whispered gently as he rubbed her shaking back.

"She promised. She promised a week."

"I know but it's not your daddy's fault, sweetie. Now tell me what you want your daddy to bake for your class."

"C-C-C-Cookie dough cup-cupcakes." Maddie said between sniffles, hiccups, and heavy breaths from her crying and screams.

"Okay. I'll tell him. He loves you and so do I. It'll be okay." Louis stood up and kissed her head then without even turning towards Hannah he headed back inside the house.

Harry was sitting on the floor crying just as hard as Maddie had been a few moments ago. Louis slid into his lap and hugged his neck feeling his arms wrap around his waist and his sobs wet the sweater Louis was wearing.

"Don't you ever hold me back when my child yells for me like that again." Louis said as gently and a softly as he could so Harry knew he wasn't mad at him. Harry didn't respond, not that Louis expected him to, he just sat there holding Louis as he cried and Louis sat there holding Harry rubbing his back and trying to do whatever he could to soothe him. They sat there well over an hour before Harry stood up and headed upstairs with a soft click of a door closing. Only then did Louis let his own tears fall as he sat between Anne and his mom.

****

Harry only came down briefly to say goodbye to their families and he tried to apologize to Louis' family, but his mother out a stop to that immediately. When they had left Harry had kissed Louis' cheek then headed back upstairs. Louis understood that Harry wasn't in the right space to be out so he didn't mind doing the last few things that needed done before Freddie came back. Zayn had texted saying he was feeding Freddie then would bring him back and from there they would decide if he should take him overnight. So yes Louis definitely owed Zayn for today. Louis had just sat down when the front door opened and Zayn and Freddie came in.

"I'm sorry." Louis said looking at Zayn

"Don't worry about it. I can't even imagine what you two are feeling."

"She yelled for me. Cried and screamed for me. I felt useless. Harry hasn't left the bedroom except to say goodbye and he tried to apologize to my mom. I can't imagine it. I can't- my heart hurts." Louis said stubbornly wiping his eyes before Freddie saw

"Do you want me to take him for the night and take him to nursery? I don't mind and it wouldn't be the first time I kept him an extra night."

"Do you mind? It's just Harry will want to make Maddie's cupcakes and-"

"Say no more. Go take little man to say goodnight to Harry and I'll pack him a bag." Louis nodded calling for Freddie and heading upstairs with him as he told him he would be staying with Zayn.

"We're going to tell Harry goodnight okay?"

"Okay." Freddie said cheerfully opening the door and running to the bed climbing up on it , "hi Harry Papa is letting me stay with Zayn on a school night so I came to say goodnight to you before I leave."

"He is? That sounds like so much fun. I bet Zayn will let you stay up an extra hour if you ask him." Harry said

"I bet so too. I'll miss you though but I guess I'll just see you tomorrow because we live here now so I won't miss you too much." Harry chuckled

"I hope you have a lovely time tonight Freddie and you give this to Zayn. Put it in his hand and yell no takebacks and run away got it?" Harry said as he grabbed a bundle of 50s and handed it to Freddie.

"Okay."

"Tell him to buy art supplies or pizza or beer or a night buddy. It's his to do with what he wants. No take backs alright?"

"You got it Harry. Goodnight."

"Goodnight squirt." Louis chuckled as he followed Freddie downstairs where he did as Harry told put the cash bundle in his hand and yelled no takebacks then ran outside to the car. Louis could hear Harry laughing from upstairs as Zayn glared at them.

"Louis I can't-"

"You can and you will. Look I promise you that is the lowest bundle in the house so if you don't take that one he'll just give you one that's bigger. Seriously just go on and get out of here and have fun and spend it on yourself mister." Louis said pushing Zayn out of the house and locking the door behind him laughing as he watched Zayn glare at him through the window. He waited until they had left before he headed upstairs and saw Harry was sitting up in the bed now rubbing at his face with his sweater.

"I'm sorry. I just...I couldn't socialize anymore."

"Hey it's okay. Trust me my family didn't even care you were up here after that. The only reason they stayed so long because we all cleaned up so you didn't have to."

"I know and I feel bad. They were guests they shouldn't-"

"My mom was feeling useless not cleaning something, she was ready to beat you if you didn't let her help. She didn't mind. No one did. It's okay they still think you're amazing."

"Okay...alright...tell me what I gotta do." Harry said rubbing his face again.

"She said she wanted cookie dough cupcakes."

"Figures. I made them a few months ago for her birthday, I saw her a few weeks after her birthday and I baked her a cupcake of her choice. I need to run to the store real quick but I have mostly everything here."

"Okay. What do you need me to do."

"Relax. I need you to relax. Lay in bed, go to sleep, lay on the couch, whatever it is, just relax. You've done enough today."

"I want to help."

"And you will when I need you to so for now take a nap because this might take a few hours."

"Alright. I'll nap on the couch."

"Good." Harry kissed his forehead as he stood up and they headed downstairs together. Louis made up his spot on the couch and laid down while Harry got the recipe and checked his ingredients. He gave Louis a kiss before he headed out of the house and to the store. Louis fell asleep shortly after that as Titanic played on the TV.

****

Making the cupcakes didn't take as long as Louis had feared, but he was definitely regretting it Monday morning as he sat in the passenger seat of the Murano while Harry drove to the school. Louis had explained to Harry that career day was an all day event, hence the snacks, a few students were assigned a good a beverage like Maddie and a few others were assigned desserts. A few others were assigned drinks and lunch and stuff like that. There were thirteen students each year one class so the forty cupcakes were more than enough for Maddie's class and they would have extra to bring home which Louis was excited about. When they got to the school building Louis walked with Harry to Maddie's classroom. Maddie was sitting at a round table with her chin held in her hand as she kicked her feet.

"There she is." Louis said quietly pointing at her watching as Harry grinned when he spotted her as well. Louis said a quick hi to Maddison before he headed to his class as Harry sat in a too small chair at a too small table with Maddie. Turns out career day was much more than just talking about your job, at least for this classroom, there were coloring sheets and recommended questions to ask. It was very thought out and Harry had never been more happy to be so uncomfortable especially when the teacher had given Maddie a stack of papers about doctors to pass out to the students and parents.

#Larry Stylinson #larry shippers #larry fanfiction #larry stylinson fanfiction #larries #fake marriage #nonfamous au #larry fake marraige au #doctor harry styles #teacher louis #parents au #archive of our own #Wattpad #work in progress

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edie-of-the-empire · 4 years

Text

To my fellow Edeleth fan, Jordan (@hoiiowknight):

Happy Holidays to you, my friend. However you celebrate, I hope you take the time to enjoy.

I am gifting you this piece in reminder to always strive for that 'something more'. You deserve it, and you should look for it, no matter where you find yourself in life. Doors open and close all the time. It is up to you to choose the correct one. May this be a gift to encourage that you strive for the best opportunities; that you seek out your something more, and to remind you- that you are ALWAYS worth it.

Cheers and well-wishes, -M.

Something More

M. Lauren

Silence filtered through the cabin. It was uncomfortable, and Edelgard wondered if Byleth could feel it as well.

She must, El concluded.

It would be untruthful to say that the first leg of their trip was going well.

The two had departed from Garreg Mach, hours prior. Their carriage was packed to capacity. Each of their worldly possessions had been stowed away, and they were headed off to their new life in Enbarr.

Our new life as… Edelgard sighed. Her lips pursed in contemplation. What are we?

Her mind was in turmoil as the carriage bumped and rattled down the dirt roads. Not even the scent of warm countryside had managed to soothe El.

She was ruminating.

-no. I am dwelling! She managed a silent grumble, and her mind continued to spiral.

During their last conversation, Byleth had agreed to come to Enbarr. She had given Edelgard her mother’s ring, and it shown brilliant upon the chain around the emperor’s neck. However, El was puzzled. Byleth had gifted her this metaphorical token, but-

What does it signify? Edelgard emitted another silent moan.

She had confessed her feelings to her most trusted friend. Edelgard had ranted and stumbled through her words as she pulled from the shock of receiving such a gift.

Byleth, though; she had been as stoic and calm as ever. She handed over that ring as if it was as easy as inviting her student to afternoon tea.

But this isn’t tea! She felt the words trying at her lips. This is our future; a relationship! ...or at least, I believed it was…

Edelgard pushed back into the bench. Her shoulders were tightly strained. Her teeth were grit and her eyes briefly closed as the world passed by around them.

This was not how she imagined the next chapter of her life would lead.

Looking across the cabin, Edelgard’s frustrations only continued to grow. Byleth appeared peaceful. Her eyes directed toward the road, reflecting the sun's light in her deep blue iris’. She pondered the view outside her window; the passing trees and white clouds. Her expression was void of any sort of emotion, and evidently void of any of the same stress in which Edelgard was feeling herself.

“Is something troubling you?” Byleth’s concern indicated El had been caught staring.

It was also then, for which Edelgard realized her hands had balled into white-knuckled fists against her lap.

“I am fine.” She released them. “I have told you before about my dislike for cramped spaces.”

Her tone spilled a little drier than intended. Nonetheless, Byleth ignored it. She nodded in understanding as she rotated in her seat.

“We could walk a while, if you believe that might help? Perhaps the fresh air will ease your nerves.”

Despite the kind gesture, Edelgard’s irritation flared.

She shook her head, seemingly jaded. “We have experienced a long few months. You need your rest.”

However, Byleth was not listening. She reached around Edelgard to knock against the frame, causing the iron wall to rattle between them and the outside post.

The carriage came to a swift halt. Byleth sheathed her blade. She lifted herself to stand, and Edelgard eyed her suspiciously.

“Now it is no longer a discussion.” Byleth caught her hand. “We are walking.”

Edelgard was pulled quickly to her feet. Byleth waited until she was stable on her heels before releasing her to open the door.

“Go on a ways.” Byleth explained to the driver.

She assisted Edelgard down from the cabin, and returned to face the man.

“We will meet you at the base of Morgaine. The emperor would like to stretch her legs before dark.”

Byleth had lied for her, and that notion was oddly comforting. She never allowed Edelgard to appear weak in the eyes of men; despite what bits about her past Byleth knew, and could use to do so.

The driver arched his brow. “If you are certain, madam. I will leave the guards for aide.”

“That won’t be necessary.” Edelgard stepped in at Byleth’s side. “I am quite confident in our ability to defend ourselves.”

She had fashioned her own sword now, causing Byleth to smile. She shook the smirk from her lips before waving forward their men.

The two waited, watching the carriage and horses continue on. They disappeared as the trail turned, and Edelgard sighed in sudden relief.

“I suppose you were correct.” She turned to Byleth. “The fresh air has me feeling better already.”

“I am glad.” Byleth sent El a short nod, and then silently took the lead.

Long minutes passed as they walked. In no time at all, their uncomfortable silence had filtered back in. Though irritated, El much preferred dealing with her confusion outside of the confined carriage. The weight of Byleth’s indecisiveness was not nearly as heavy amongst the vast roads and forest. Here, she had the space to locate the humor amidst their predicament. Here, Edelgard realized, that while the admission of her feelings had changed her for the better; they had yet to weaken her Ashen Demon.

With Byleth at the front, Edelgard felt they were headed to battle.

Once a mercenary, always a mercenary. She stifled a laugh.

Byleth’s strides were long and certain. With her hand curled around the handle of her blade and her head held high, Byleth appeared ready to take down any enemy in hiding.

“Is our fort under siege,” Edelgard teased. “-or are we out for a leisurely stroll?”

Byleth fumbled in her steps. Edelgard’s eyes directed coyly down to the hand on her sword.

Byleth’s grip loosened in response. “Old habits.” She shrugged. “I apologize.”

“You don’t have to explain.” A small grin turned against her cheeks. “I understand. However, we are taking a break from the carriage, not hurrying to get back to it. Might I suggest we slow down a pace?”

Byleth’s lips drew to the side. “Why don’t you take the lead then, El?”

“Or, perhaps we walk together?”

As quickly as the words slipped passed her tongue, a steady blush surfaced along Edelgard’s chest. Her heart began to race. Her eyes widened, and yet, Byleth paid little mind. She heeded El’s request by taking a station at her side.

Their walk resumed. Hip to hip, their pace slowed as the trail wound on. While it did, the air continued to warm. Summer was nearing. The heat of the sun and the scent of honeysuckle told tale of that much. Paired with the aroma of drying wood, the atmosphere around them began to soften.

“This reminds me of my time as a mercenary.”

Edelgard’s head snapped toward her; surprised, more than anything else, to have heard Byleth speaking up.

“Oh, and why is that?” She hummed.

Byleth shoulders drew into a shrug. “Open road, sword on my hip…” Her eyes turned to her feet.

Edelgard could not help but giggle. “You know, when I suggested we slow down and enjoy the walk, I had meant taking the time to think about something peaceful. Here you are reminiscing over raids and sword play.”

“I was thinking about my father, too.” Byleth's words were clipped.

“I see,” Edelgard’s gaze joined against the trail. “And what about him were you thinking?”

Silence filled the gap between them. Edelgard heard Byleth stiffen. Her lavender eyes rose to find the ex-merc appearing uncharacteristically tense.

“Are you alright?” She asked. Her hand came to rest at Byleth’s shoulder.

“I am.” She nodded. “Though, my chest feels strange. I have these memories, and now suddenly they come paired with these new and heavy emotions. I must get familiar with them, is all.”

“And you will.” Edelgard promised. Her fingers squeezed against Byleth’s coat. “Emotions are but a facet in the human experience; only you have had the unfortunate luck of playing host to a non-mortal deity for most of your life. You had a late start, but you will learn. I am confident in that.”

Byleth bit down on her lip. “I suppose that is true.”

Her eyes returned to the trees, but Edelgard refused to leave well enough alone.

“We can learn together, then.” She encouraged. “Why don’t you tell me about your father? What about these woods reminds you of him?”

A small sound, like a huff, pulled passed Byleth’s lips. “I am not certain it is the woods as much as it is, being here with you.”

“With me?” Her eyes widened.

“-with you on this open road.” She explained. “While my father and I traveled, we would walk and talk, much like we are now.”

Byleth's head turned to find Edelgard’s hand. It remained warm and flexed against her shoulder.

Embarrassed, Edelgard swiftly pulled away. “What would you discuss while you traveled; you and your father, I mean?” She stammered through her words. Her hand burned where it caught against her chest.

“Tactics, primarily. And on occasion, we would discuss the upcoming raid.”

“I see,” Edelgard smiled softly. “It appears both our childhoods lacked any recreational or seemingly personal, conversations.”

Her head tilt toward El. “You and I have personal conversations.”

“We do.” Edelgard nodded. “However, I suppose you are the first I have allowed myself to do this with in a very long time.”

“That makes me feel important.”

“You are important.” The words left her throat in a single breath, and Edelgard quickly turned away.

Her face was aflame. Her worries from earlier came flooding back in.

“While we are on the subject of personal; might I ask you something, Byleth?”

She turned silent, and Byleth waited until El’s eyes returned to her before she spoke.

“Of course you may.” Her shoulders clenched.

Edelgard’s jaw wavered in a swarm of thoughts. “I was- I mean, I am wondering why you have gifted me your mother’s ring?”

Byleth’s eyes grew wide. Her feet slowed.

“I had made some irrational assumptions the other day, and I wanted to clarify what this meant to you?” She fingered the chain against her neck, and Byleth’s gaze followed.

“I suppose I thought it obvious.” Her head craned. “You had asked for me to stay with you, but that was already in my plans.”

“Yes, that much I understand.” Edelgard forcefully pressed on. “But, how do you wish to continue from here? Do you wish us friends, or allies, or-”

“What?” Byleth’s face scrunched.

Stopping short, Edelgard’s feet slid amongst the dirt. Her hands balled into fists and she tighten them against her skirt.

“You gave me your mother’s ring; her engagement ring. You said to me that you would always be here for me. When I spoke of my feelings for you, and of the life we would spend together, nothing changed between us. You have said nothing, nor done anything, to make me believe you knew what I was alluding to. We remain but emperor and aide. We are friends, as always; friends without the burden of war, but what I had wanted, what I was hoping for, was for something much more than this.

“What I want for us, it is greater than friendship. It is love and togetherness. I want the life I would have never allowed myself to want before I knew I was free to do so. And I have wanted that with you, Byleth! I want you to be my wife. You have always been my partner, my friend, and my ally; but now, more than that, I would like for you to want those ‘somethings more’ as well.”

Fingers threaded under Edelgard’s jaw. Her face was tugged forward. Byleth’s actions were brash and her hands were strong, but when her lips met El’s they were soft and tender.

“Byleth?” Edelgard breathed. Her wide eyes glazed in a mix of excitement and confusion.

She drew back a hair. Her lips still suspended over Byleth’s. They had touched, she thought, but not for long enough to remember.

Byleth’s hands lost their grip, and she began to pull away. However, Edelgard was suddenly there, her hands holding Byleth's in place. She looked afraid; as worried as Byleth. Both were afraid they might frighten the other off.

“Something more.” Byleth whispered.

Her words shook Edelgard still, and Byleth forced a careful step back. She watched El raise her fingers to her lips. She touched them, wondering when they had lost the ability to speak. In spite of that, seeing Byleth uncharacteristically flustered caused her confidence to soar. Edelgard’s hands suddenly flattened to Byleth’s chest, and she drew herself high onto her toes.

“Something more,” She agreed with a grin. Edelgard brushed against Byleth’s lips once more. "Yes, this; this is what I meant. We both deserve this something more."

Her words fell away. Edelgard's breathing hitched, and she accepted another kiss as Byleth willingly lowered toward her.

-M.

#it's dorothea #my writing #secret santa #fe3h project hub #twitter #fe3h #fire emblem #edeleth #three houses #fire emblem three houses #edelgard #edelgard von hresvelg #edelgard x byleth #f!byleth #byleth eisner

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tsarinastorm · 4 years

Text

Stare Blankly-Adam Sackler/Reader-Chapter 3

*This is the first part of a two part series, So We Beat On

Chapter 1 Chapter 2

You finished setting out the wine and snacks, and were pulling up your streaming services on your television. You were having your first real girls’ night since moving to the city, and it was your first time hosting your new friend, Marnie. You met Marnie and Elijah at the same, boring networking event for young women, and bonded over the wine bar. The three of you started chatting about how lame the event was, but at least there was free wine. You became fast friends and grabbed lunch. You were missing your friends from back home so when Marnie mentioned a girls’ night, you thought it was a great idea. Marnie was bringing the nail polish, and face masks, and you supplied the apartment and snacks.

You had a small one-bedroom apartment in Tudor, and you couldn’t wait to move somewhere else. Your library hardly fit in this apartment and you weren’t ready to give up any part of the collection. The books, broad in topics, helped you win a few episodes of Jeopardy, enough to pay off your law school debt, and it gave you a chance to focus on writing instead of practicing law. You had written a modern Shakespeare series, some historical fiction and another novel which was released last year, and became a best seller. You freelanced on the side to keep things interesting and to be able to afford living in New York City.

You were sitting cross-legged on your couch with a glass of wine in your hand and some kind of specialty mask on your face. Marnie was sitting next to you, posed in a similar fashion but with a cucumber mask on. You had some cheesy romantic comedy on but were too busy talking to pay attention. She recounted the breakdown of her marriage and music partnership with Desi, and talked about helping Hannah raise her baby upstate. She said she moved back to the city because upstate just felt suffocating to her. You tell her you understood, you had moved to the city because you wanted more.

“Y/N, you’re a writer, right?”

“Yes I am, are you in need of writing services? Isn’t one of your friend, Hannah, a writer too?”

“Hannah is a writer but she couldn’t help me. I need to work on song lyrics, and I’d like some help. You’re such a great writer maybe you could help me tweak some stuff.”

“Sure, no problem. I know nothing about music so that’s my disclaimer if it’s terrible.”

“I can appreciate any help I could get. It’s so hard to work on music while I have to look for a normal 9 to 5 job too. Working at the coffee shop just isn’t cutting it and it sucks to see Ray every day.” You had heard her talk about her past with Ray, and you couldn’t blame her for not wanting to see him all the time. You remembered that she had an art degree and you had some connections to galleries in the city.

“Wait, don’t you have a degree in art or curatorship? I have a friend who manages artists and is getting ready to open a new gallery featuring his artist’s work. He’s also a professor at Columbia so he always needs some help.”

“That would be great, that’s originally what I wanted to do. Do you think you could get me an interview, or send him my resume?”

“I’ll see what I can do.” You really don’t want to speak to Marc again, but if Marnie needed a job, you could suffer through a conversation. You and Marc had a unique relationship, with ups and downs, and it was currently over. You weren’t prepared for what talking to him again may entail.

The café was cute, artsy, and seemed to have a variety of drinks and foods catered to hipsters. It almost makes you laugh, but you see your crew motioning for you. You go to the table where you see Marnie, Elijah, a girl with short mousey hair, a cute baby, and another girl with dark hair. You sit down and you can feel the two girls you don’t know watching you curiously. Marnie starts the introductions.

“Y/N, these are my friends, Hannah and Shoshanna. And Hannah’s baby, Grover.”

“It’s nice to meet you guys, I’ve heard so much about you both. And this must be Grover, I’ve heard all about him too. He is adorable.” You say as you watch the baby who’s struggling with his sippy cup. You quickly find out that Hannah has recently moved back to the city, lives on Long Island, and works as an editor now. Hannah also adds that she is single and open to relationships, even potentially getting back with an ex because she thinks she needs closure. Yikes you think, getting back with an ex almost never works well. Elijah is busy entertaining baby Grover and chimes into the conversation every now and then. But you and Hannah are able to have a good discussion about writing and the struggles of being a female writer. Shosh talks about her fiancé, how perfect he is, how she wants to go back to Japan, and about how stressful planning a wedding is. You decently like Hannah and Shosh, but you didn’t know how close you’d be with them, you just had different lives. Everyone at your table then turns to look at some blonde with a British accent coming towards the table.

“Who invited her?” Elijah says icily. Shoshanna answers saying, “I mentioned this to her but she was not invited.” The blonde takes a seat at the table and she introduces herself to you.

“I’m Jessa, their other friend, the bad friend, the one who steals boyfriends.” She says and you watch to see if she’s joking but you’re alarmed when you realize that she is not. You introduce yourself to her, and you can feel that the resentment at the table is practically sizzling.

“Jessa, are you and Adam still fucking or whatever your thing was?” Hannah asks with an edgy tone. You immediately pick up that there’s some drama there, specifically between Hannah and Jessa. Your instinct appears correct because everyone else looks tense as they watch the exchange. Jessa just smiles as she answers, “No, we’re just friends now, but I still talk to him. I hope we can all be friends again now that I’m not with him anymore. Are the rest of you satisfied now?”

“That doesn’t make it any better that you stole her boyfriend.” Elijah snaps at her and rolls his eyes. Marnie and Shosh just watch her, and choose not to respond to her. Jessa turns to Hannah, and says, “Can we talk somewhere?”

“There’s not much to talk about but alright.” Hannah quickly packs up Grover’s things and rushes to leave, she’s obviously frazzled and wants to get that conversation over with. Hannah tells you that it was nice meeting you, gives you a quick hug then is gone. Jessa tells you the same thing, but doesn’t hug you, and it feels like brunch is ruined. That Jessa came in like a hurricane, then left. You must look shocked, because Marnie starts laughing nervously before she explains, “Welcome to the disaster that is our friendship. Adam is Hannah’s ex, then Jessa dated him for a while, it’s a testy subject as you can see. No one wanted Jessa here, and apparently even Adam is sick of her.”

Shosh and Elijah both shake their heads in agreement with Marnie. The remaining four of you continue chatting for an hour or so. You decide that you don’t particularly like Jessa simply because of her history, but to you she seemed decent. You’d keep her at a distance though. Shoshanna was super sweet, a bit chatty, but well-intentioned, you thought you could be friends with her. You thought Hannah was a bit self-absorbed but good company, and you had a lot in common. Marnie promised to fill you in on the friendship drama later.

“I have a job interview with Marc this week, thank you so much for sending him my info.” Marnie says as she hugs you.

“I hope it all works out, it was really no problem.”

“I have a gig this weekend, you should definitely come, I’ll be performing a new song!”

“Alright, send me the details,” you say as you’re trying to decide if you’re excited or not. You’re excited to support your friend, but will her other friends be there? You weren’t sure if you were interested in their group drama, you had enough of your own issues going on.

*************************************************************************

Adam walks into the bar, and looks around. It’s definitely not a place he’d normally venture into on his own. He was here for Marnie’s singing gig, he never particularly liked Marnie but Ray encouraged him to show up. Ray was Adam’s only friend, if he could even call him a friend. Jessa claims she’s his friend now, but she’s not. He’s the one who broke up with her, and she was desperate to stay in his life so she convinced him to be friends, but he knows she’s hoping to make it more than friends again. He looks up at the upper level of the bar, and he sees one of the most beautiful girls he’s ever seen.

She’s standing up there perched against a high table, but she’s clearly enjoying her view over the whole bar. She’s wearing a beige crop top and black skinny jeans, Adam thinks she somehow looks both confident and vulnerable. He makes up his mind that he’s going to talk to her. When he makes to the edge of her table, he asks, “May I join you?”

“Sure.” She nods and looks at him, and continues, “This is the perfect spot for people watching.”

“Definitely, do you see that guy down there in the blue shirt, he looks the typical hipster, he probably complains about being ‘friend-zoned.’”

“That girl there is probably coming off a bad break up and is looking for a rebound. She’s trying to figure out how to look fun but not too desperate.” She laughs, and then her phone buzzes and she says, “I’ve got to go meet my friends but it was nice talking to you, I’m Y/N.”

She reaches out her hand and he takes it introducing himself, “I’m Adam, I hope I see you around.”

********************************************************************************

You go meet up with Shoshanna, and Hannah. Marnie’s getting ready to go on stage, so the three of you stand off to the side of the platform and wait for her to come out. Shosh and Hannah are talking about how Marnie must be nervous before going on stage, and then you hear Shosh say that she doesn’t even know why Jessa showed up. You think that’s great, let’s bring the drama train back. Speaking of drama involving someone named Adam makes you think of the Adam you just met. You figure that you’ll see him at some point tonight, this place is only so big. You’re thinking about his perfect imperfect smile when you see him walking your way. He comes up and stands besides Hannah and they talk as you realize that he must the Adam that she and Jessa have the rift over. Hannah then turns to you, and goes to introduce you to Adam, but you stop her saying, “Oh this is the Adam? I just ran into him a couple of minutes ago.”

“Yeah, we talked for a few minutes. How do you two know each other?” Adam asks as he motions his hands towards you and Hannah, you can see the moment it clicks in his head that you must be friends or acquaintances with Hannah. Hannah answers for you telling him “She’s our new friend. We just met her the other day. Did you know that she’s a writer like me?”

“No, we didn’t have time to talk about that,” he says sheepishly. You try to diffuse the situation by asking Adam what he does, he tells you that he’s an actor. He asks you where you’re from and he responds to your answer by joking that your home might be the only place worse than Indiana. You surprisingly don’t disagree.

“What have you been working on? Every actor I’ve met is like every writer I’ve met: they have projects.” You say coolly, leaning in so he can hear your question over the music. He laughs as he answers your question, “I did a production of Hamlet, and just finished a Death of A Salesman at Minetta Lane. I have some other auditions and projects coming up.”

You recognize him from the production of Hamlet you went to a few months ago, that’s why he looked familiar. Hannah and Shosh has backed away slightly from you, as if to give you privacy to talk. Adam as steps closer to you as you inadvertently take a step towards him too. You definitely found Adam hot, and you were impressed by his work. You’d seen Hamlet and read the rave reviews for his part in Death of a Salesman. It was the first time in a long time that you felt nervous around someone. It was a good nervous, but still it was making you more self-conscious than you’d like. You tried to ignore his past with new friends because you could tell that could be a stressful nightmare, but you really wanted to get to know him better. Adam seemed to be smart, non-traditional and interesting. You thought that a compliment was a safe way to start a conversation, or it is with ninety-nine percent of the population.

You take a long sip of your drink and lean in closer to him so he can hear you, “I saw the production of Hamlet, and you were really great. One of the best performances of Hamlet I’ve ever seen.”

“Thanks, I appreciate the compliment. It means a lot, you said you’re a writer so you know about the arts. I’m a fan of your work too, your book was one of the best books I’ve read this decade. ”

“I appreciate art, but my perspective is different from yours because I’m not an actor. Isn’t that the great thing about art though: it means different things to different people, but it’s also universal?”

“I agree, it’s supposed to make people feel something, that’s why I don’t do mainstream stuff. It tends to be shallow.”

“I like modern interpretations of Shakespeare like your Hamlet. It’s timeless and universal.”

“I’ve never understood the allure of Shakespeare, he’s overrated and pretentious.” He states like it’s a known fact. You have to watch his reaction to see if he’s joking with you, but you see he’s being dead serious. And things were going so well until he dropped that bombshell opinion.

“He’s the greatest writer of all time. And what writer isn’t pretentious? Most of them are pretentious by default because through most of history a majority of the population couldn’t read or write so writers always represented the upper classes.”

“Okay I’ll admit that Shakespeare is good, he’s made a lasting impact or whatever. But he took works from others, and anytime you have to have a modern interpretation to understand the point, the writing probably isn’t as good as you thought.”

“He wasn’t pretentious in his time. When he wrote it, the people understood it. English has drastically changed in 500 years. He appeals because he used universal themes and timeless human emotions.” You can feel your anger rising, but you can’t help it. He’s was so stubborn, and resolute in his convictions.

“I still disagree. There are thousands of writers who do the same thing and don’t get the credit. But Shakespeare is untouchable because a lot of elitist academics think he is.”

“And the whole world should listen to you. Am I supposed to believe that all of the scholars who study Shakespeare and literature are wrong and you alone are the only one who is right? Who sounds pretentious now?”

“You’re sounding like an elitist. I’m curious, who’s your favorite author?”

“Okay I’ll play along, Dostoevsky or Fitzgerald.”

“That’s my point exactly.”

“Do you think Dostoevsky is pretentious too? He did not go through exile in Siberia to be insulted by some yuppie actor in modern day New York.”

“Did you seriously call me a yuppie?”

“I did.” You say as you raise your eyebrows and take an exaggerated drink from your cup. It added a dramatic flair to your comment, and you felt like you needed a drink with the way this conversation was going. Apparently your yuppie comment struck a nerve because Adam’s voice deepened when he responded, and his new tone was accusatory.

“I know what your problem is. You’re so used to being the smartest person in the room that you can’t fucking handle it when someone is just as smart as you. Because you feel that way, you assume you’re always right and you refuse to let anything go.” You can’t tell what makes you madder: his tone, or the fact he presumes to know everything about you, when he doesn’t. The nerve of him! You’re going to get him back from that comment, so you try to give him a low blow too.

“And I know what your problem is. You’re so used to playing the ‘starving’ artist, waxing poetically. Oh you poor tormented soul! You use it to excuse yourself from real responsibility and you think it makes you different, but really you’re just like everybody else.” You point your finger to emphasize your last point. You can’t tell if that was the worst conversation you’ve ever had, or one of the best conversations you’ve had in a long time. You were somehow both infuriated by him and intrigued. You were a lawyer after all, maybe that’s why you weren’t totally put off by the argument, and a part of you actually liked it.

You become suddenly aware of how close you’re standing to him, you can count all of his freckles and can practically feel his breath. Assuming that he would move back, you stood your ground, but he remained still as his honey irises bored into yours. This was too much, you thought to yourself and willed yourself away. You grab your drink off the table and turn to leave. Adam looks like he’s going to say something, but instead he keeps a smug look on his face as you watches you walk away.

You then walk off to go congratulate Marnie on her great performance, even though you have be too distracted to listen to most of it. You presumed Adam would still be around after you’ve congratulated Marnie, and you’d have a chance to finish your chat. But when you got back to where you last saw Adam, he wasn’t there. You scanned the bar for him, and he was nowhere to be seen. You guessed you wouldn’t get to finish that talk.

#adam sackler x reader #hbo girls #girls hbo #adam sackler fic #adam driver #adam sackler

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ghost-hyunjin · 3 years

Text

Another Way to Repay a Debt

TW: Bank setting, mafia deals, mention of cancer, poor sibling relationship, spoiled adult children, death, mention of jail, owing money to someone, mention of stereotype Greek life behaviors, mention of bribes, overbearing mother, parents spoiling a child

“Miss Park, please come in and take a seat,” the bank manager greeted her as the teller brought her to his office. He looked past the woman and addressed the teller, “Annie, would you please close the door behind you and tell everyone we are not to be disturbed.”

The teller glanced over her shoulder and hesitated for a few seconds, then nodded quickly and shut the door, a bit loudly behind her.

“You said you’d have the money by this month,” the young woman stated.

The manager tensed up in his desk chair and squeezed the armrest cushions attached to said chair. The loan he borrowed from Rose Park to remove the tumor on his wife’s pancreas. It was already time.

Damn his sister and good-for-nothing brother-in-law, Arthur thought miserably, trying to hide his expression. He sat up straighter in his seat and lowered his head slightly, averting his gaze.

“Miss Park, please do forgive me,” he said, trying to keep his voice steady, “I had the money.”

The young woman raised a brow at the last sentence. She studied the middle-aged bank manager across from her quietly.

Unlike some of the people who came knocking at her door, Arthur Pendleton was a nervous, but normal man with a wife and no kids. One would think a bank manager would make a cushy salary, but apparently Arthur had been passed over for a promotion and a few days later, his wife was diagnosed with pancreatic cancer. The doctors insisted that they remove the tumor immediately to save her life and quoted an astonishing price, even with their health insurance factored in. His wife tried to insist that perhaps they could do chemo instead, but the doctors persisted and Arthur tried to put on a brave smile and said they should listen to the doctors.

He tried asking his sister and her husband, but they gave the excuse that they needed to pay the school’s tuition for Jeff’s semester. (Arthur was pretty sure that it was really a donation they were giving the school to bribe the administration to not kick their son out after one too many frat parties hosted.) He looked into taking out a loan and then a neighbor that lived five doors down suggested chatting with his contact, which turned out to be Miss Park.

Arthur had all of the money stored in a separate account and he was prepared to give it to Miss Park and be done with it. But a week and a half ago, his sister came to the bank in tears, sobbing that her son was in jail. He thought it was a DUI or perhaps a neighbor finally won the battle against that spoiled boy’s fraternity, but his sister said otherwise.

“He killed a student!” his sister wailed. “His peers are calling him a murderer, but he’s innocent! That boy he shoved was a lightweight and it’s not his fault he actually works out!”

Apparently the school, witnesses, and the victim’s family were saying otherwise, and Jeff was arrested, currently in a holding cell. The bail was set high and his sister was short of the fees needed to get Jeff out. She claimed they sold some of his brother-in-law’s flashy cars and she pawned some jewelry, but it wasn’t enough.

“What about Vic’s parents? Can’t they help too?” he asked.

“Vic is trying to reason with them, but I need to get my boy out now! Oh Artie, they’re going to kill him there – he won’t survive a week!” his sister blurted out.

If Arthur hadn’t been so weak, so giving to others, he could have told his selfish sister that he couldn’t help. After all, they ignored his pleas to save his beloved wife Caterina, so why would he help his spoiled nephew who showed him zero respect? He almost told his sister that her son was probably in a station holding cell versus a real prison at this time, but thought better of it. During her visit, she managed to persuade him to cough up all of the money he had for Miss Park’s loan and not once had she asked about Caterina.

Miss Park stared at the bank manager with a serious look and tilted her head slightly. “Unacceptable. But I get it. Your wife was sick.” She paused for a moment to let her words sink in. “When can you get the money, hm?”

Arthur opened his mouth to speak and jumped when the phone on his desk began ringing loudly. He looked at the phone, then at Miss Park.

She gestured to the phone and he shakily reached for it.

“Annie, I said–”

“Sir, it’s a call from your sister – she wouldn’t take no for an answer,” Annie interrupted him. “Also, she called me something I can’t repeat here at work. Is she always like that?”

Great, that meant his sister was upset again, he thought.

“Annie, I’m sorry about her, please put her through,” he sighed. He heard Annie transfer the call and then he heard his sister’s voice.

“Artie, finally! That idiot girl was so slow and wouldn’t patch me through immediately – when I told her it was a family emergency, she didn’t listen!” his sister rambled.

“I gave you the money.”

“Now they’re saying the bail is higher!” she fussed as she messed up her hair. “Almost $1 million! Artie, that’s our house! We can’t sell our house right now for our boy, Vic won’t allow it! But I’m scared for every minute he sits there, alone in that cell! Oh and the other inmates must be taunting him, threatening to crack his skull open.”

“Fi, I don’t have any more money,” he said. “Cat is resting after her surgery and I’m trying to keep my household afloat.”

“You have to help!” she whined. “I have no one else to turn to! Our parents, they, they–”

“Fi, we need to talk later, I have a client with me right now and she is on a tight schedule. I’m being quite rude by talking on the phone in front of her,” Arthur interrupted. He hung up and shakily bowed, his head almost touching the top of his desk. “Please forgive me Miss Park.”

Rose had found the conversation intriguing. While normal people wouldn’t snoop, it was impossible to ignore the loud caller’s hysteria in her voice, something about her son.

“Family?” she asked.

Arthur raised his head and nodded as he looked at the phone. “My sister. My mom always said she was a pretty little fool. Never got a job but married rich. And now look at what that’s doing to her.” He groaned and rumpled his hair. “I know you are a busy woman and don’t wanna hear my excuses. I had all of it, all of the money to pay you back today. Then my sister comes in and tells me her idiot son got arrested. Now, I thought the kid finally got arrested for too much partying at his college, but apparently he killed a guy.”

Rose raised a brow and Arthur continued as he shook his head.

“Jeff’s not smart or competent enough with a weapon, but you give that knucklehead too much to drink, he thinks he’s the Hulk. Apparently he cornered this other student and pushed him – the other kid fell, hit his head hard, and boom! The kid was dead. Jeff ran for it and now he’s facing murder charges and who does my sister come crawling back to? Me, because I’m the sucker who will help.”

The woman sat forward in her chair a little and leaned forward. “Now your sister is asking for more money?”

“I’m guessing the charges are being raised from accident to manslaughter or something,” Arthur moaned. He slowly folded his hands in front of him and prayed that the woman would let him have a little more time to pay her back. “It’s hers and my lousy brother-in-law’s fault for letting that kid get away with anything. Why, Jeff won’t show me a minute of respect unless you bribed him with a $100 bill.”

The young woman listened as Arthur described the troubled nephew in question. Certainly the boy was stupid and not well-liked by the family, save for his mother and maybe the father. In the brief time she had mixed with the bank manager, she understood that he used her loan wisely and now the wife was stable. As for his pathetic sister…

“I promise, I’ll have the money by September,” Arthur whispered as he raised his head. He noticed that Miss Park was standing up and he scrambled to his feet. “I’ll even pay ex–”

Rose had begun walking to the door and she raised a hand slightly to stop him.

“Thank you, Arthur. That’ll be all, consider your debt paid. Tell Caterina I send my best.”

@mafia-chae @guitar-sihyeon

#mafia-chae #guitar-sihyeon #[tw: mafia behaviors]#[tw: mention of bribes]#[tw: mention of death]#[tw: negative portrayal of Greek life]#[tw: bank]#[tw: debts owed]#[tw: poor sibling relationship]#[tw: spoiled adult children]#[tw: overbearing mother]#[tw: mention of cancer]

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vminity21 · 5 years

Text

Perhaps, By Chance | jjk

Pairing: Jeongguk x Reader

Word Count: 3.9k

Genre: fluff, soft

Warning(s): mild angst involving a past relationship

Summary: When a night is ruined as you denyingly anticipated, a chance encounter from a kind stranger changes everything, perhaps for the better.

The message came in the middle of a busy day at work, panicking your steps and reacting in the form of, “My ex just texted me,” in front of your boss and fellow co-worker, Monica who creased her eyebrows momentarily at your random statement. Stunned doesn’t even begin to help gather words, especially when three years of silence decided to end over an app you never thought your ex would happen to discover. Three years. Majority of that time involved healing, and potentially searching for the right one to come along, but as the days passed, you eventually gave up on the idea of love, because according to your ex-boyfriend, he’s apparently the only man who will ever love you.

“You and I both know that’s nowhere near the case, my friend,” Monnie gestured an invisible slant, slipping into her coat after clocking out; the pair of you paraded outside, nearing your vehicles, but of course, she was going to make sure you were okay before driving home, and though your heart was still thudding to the anxiety rising, you’re thankful she’s someone that you could lean on. “After everything you’ve told me about him, I would not give him the time of day.”

“I just… I don’t know,” you pressed your fingertips upon the bridge of your nose, wishing you would calm down, “Why in the world would he message me after all this time?”

“He asked about your old car, right?”

“Oddly enough, yeah,”

“And, you told him no, that you do not have it anymore, correct?”

“Of course,”

“Okay, well, you’ve said enough, now you can block him, … Again,”

But, you don’t. Because now, you are pacing along the creaking floor of your apartment, gnawing on your nails because your ex-boyfriend will be taking you out to dinner after a few weeks of catching up. An uneasy feeling settles in the pit of your stomach, especially when memories of the break up spin profusely within your brain; the only thing you can’t seem to ignore is the strange hope that maybe he’s changed- maybe he will even apologize for the times he verbally abused you and created accusations he evidently had been guilty of the entire relationship- maybe he will want to start over and make things right again now that he potentially may be aware of what he lost when you left him.

You haven’t mentioned anything to your friends or your family of the evening in fear of what they would say, and though the guilt weighs heavy, you take in a deep breath, promising yourself that you can handle this. It’s been three years for crying out loud, you would think by now he would have found some ounce of motivation to become a better person.

You nearly jump out of your skin when the sound of the doorbell disrupts your million questions. Your lips part along with your widening eyes- splaying your hands along your outfit to smooth any wrinkles visible. As dramatic as a scene in a movie, your fingertips slowly reach for the doorknob before you gulp- opening the door to a bouquet of your favorite flowers, “Oh wow!” Not what you expect, but you immediately collect the bouquet from him, getting a better view of his face.

“You look beautiful,” he compliments, looking you up and down, the strong smell of his sharp cologne brushes your nose, and you observe the detail of him styling his hair the way you used to like it.

“Th-thank you,” you stammer, briefly entering the kitchen to where the flowers will lay until you return home for the evening. You prepare yourself for him to invite himself inside, but to your confusion, he does the opposite, holding out his arm for you to interlock with his, “Shall we?” There’s a small smirk that curls at the end of his lips that you slowly realize you haven’t missed, and the bizarre feeling rears its ugly head again, yet you stubbornly ignore it, flashing your ex a timid grin before waltzing to his car.

“You still into that artist? The one you would obsess over when we first went out?” The question is meant to be a conversation starter, and you, unfortunately, avoid this artist to prevent the negative memories the music brings involving your ex, and although you don’t want to lie, you make the split decision to play dumb.

“Uh, who?”

Your ex chuckles, “I remember this was our song.” Oh no, you inwardly cringe, the familiar strum of the guitar echoes within the space while you attempt to contain your composure. Which then leads to your current thought, why are you doing this? It’s then that you pray for the car ride to be quick considering you have not an idea where your ex is taking you for the evening getaway. Miraculously, you tune out as many songs that have played before you recognize that he’s pulling into the parking lot of your favorite restaurant that sits in front of a strip mall you tend to frequent when in the mood for a shopping spree. You’re not taken aback by the choice of food because it happens to be your favorite place to eat in general, and before you know it, the two of you are seated by the host, your ex ordering exactly what you always consume here.

You’re impressed by his memory, you will give him that, and while the dinner progresses, so does small conversation that forces you to only contemplate positive thoughts, especially when you notice a glimpse in his eyes that he wants to ask you something, but decides against it. Only as far as you’ve allowed it, he’s aware of your graduating college and obtaining your degree, traveling to places you’ve always dreamed of going, and meeting some of your favorite actors that happened to be visiting your town, and only vague dating stories have been mentioned since that’s something you want to avoid like the plague.

Forks clink along the plates when dinner is served, yet your mind is still foggy. Regarding the question that seems to be budding with him, you wonder if it will be something romantic for once, or maybe he will ask how you’ve actually been the past three years, or maybe he will finally apologize for his wrongdoings and how much he has missed you as well as the lessons he’s learned since losing you. Maybe he will talk about adventures you always dreamed of going on that you haven’t been able to venture yet, or maybe he will see the person you have always been and will love you the way that you deserve to be loved.

But that ship sails out the window, because the dinner is soon finished and the two of you are heading to his car with all your confusion still left unanswered. Something feels so wrong as if you’re not supposed to be here, and by here, you mean with him. While your fingers naturally curl along the seatbelt with the intention to buckle yourself in, it loosely slips from your fingers- your ex getting comfortable in the driver’s seat.

He clears his throat, and you’re frozen stiff, “So… I have a question for you,” the tone of his voice strews uncomfortable memories- the ones where he would become controlling, talking down to you as if you were continuously the root of any situation, and it’s the first you’ve heard him speak like this since the evening began. “I really need to know, and if you really want this to work out, then you’ll answer me,”

Your mouth opens, but your words pause, “I-”

“So… I know you mentioned that one guy Namjoon, but… How many people have you been with since you know… We broke u-”

SLAM!

Your ex is replied to by the heavy SLAP of the passenger door shutting behind you. Nostrils flaring causes the burn from the freezing air to puff white clouds into the atmosphere, you determinedly stomp to the front of the restaurant, anger boiling across your chest. Screeching tires zoom across the lot behind you, and with fresh tears streaming down your face, you curse under your breath while your heart shatters in disappointment not only with how the evening turned out but towards yourself for being so naïve. How dare he try and manipulate you into feeling bad for things that had nothing to do with him? And since when did your personal dating life interfere with the decision making on whether you want to work things out or not? Striding back and forth across the cement, you mutter sporadically, fingers raking through your frigid strands in panic before frantically fumbling for your cellphone to call your mother.

Where in his mind did, he think it was his business to know about the relationships you may or may not have had after the breakup, too? Though you know he was more so referring to physical intimacy, how is that any of his business at all? And yes, there was a swift love affair with a man named Namjoon back in college before he returned to serve in the army, but you haven’t heard from him in ages, and he is much better looking than your ex which now you regret not saying that portion out loud for your ex to hear, but one lesson you have learned from many experiences in life is that the best revenge is silence. And, you are proud of yourself for biting your tongue before you blurted something you would wish you hadn’t said.

Your mother’s voicemail is what you receive the two times you called, prompting silent sobs to soak your cold cheeks, “C’mon, mom, c’mon,” you beg, and with your racing heart and desperation for a ride, you decide to collapse upon a small bench seated in front of the restaurant with your face now buried into your hands. You need to breathe, you tell yourself, Mother is at work and is busy and you need to breathe.

There’s a soft trail of footsteps from concerned, umber eyes that have observed you from a distance after the skidding tires that woke the town up had halted him in his tracks. He’s not one to typically check on an individual he doesn’t know, but the frenzied way you appear, he can’t just leave without ensuring that you’re okay.

When he pauses a few feet away from you, his hands are cuddled into his front pockets, hair nestled into a black beanie while his shoulders scrunch from the chilly breeze that happens to nip his nose. Your face is still buried within your hands, but your ears are still perked from the knowing of someone being present.

“Hi,” the voice is soft and belonging to a male specimen, and you’re mildly relieved that it is not the voice belonging to your ex-boyfriend who essentially left you here without a second thought. Gradually raising your head, some of your hair sticks to your clammy cheeks before you swipe them away. If you had been standing, the wind would have knocked you from under your feet, especially with the face you’re now staring at that, holds timid eyes mirroring the way his thin lips are slightly ajar, and the defined line of his jaw is shaped into such a handsome sculpture- one you haven’t seen in what feels like forever.

“H-hi,” you stutter, shaking your head in embarrassment and trying to figure out how a stranger with the looks of a chiseled athlete who should be passing by is still paused before you.

“I’m sorry to bother you, I just happened to be walking to my car when I noticed someone speeding off, not sure if you knew them, but I wanted to make sure you’re okay,”

Judging from faint sniffles, you’re sure he probably witnessed the entire scene of you power-walking away from your ex’s car, and though this stranger emits the aura of gentleness, you’re not necessarily in the mood for sweet talk if that’s what he is aiming for in the long run. After the night you’ve had thus far, another boy causing you heartbreak is not in your best interest. Folding your arms across your chest, your gaze drops to your shoes lightly scraping the tips of them along the cement of the sidewalk.

“May I… May I take a seat?” You wince at the realization that you haven’t answered him yet, and nibbling the inside of your cheek in obvious doubt, you return your eyes to his, and since you happen to be waiting on your mom to call you back, maybe having some company may not be such a bad idea after all. As much as you want to be angry at the masculine population, not all men are inconsiderate, and for this stranger to take time out of his night to check on you is enough to give him a chance at being friends if that’s what tonight leads to.

You nod your permission, noticing the grin still lingering on his pink lips. When he nestles beside you, he leaves enough space, glancing at you in the introduction, “My name is Jeongguk,” he offers a large hand that you accept; nervous jitters illuminating in the warmth of a blush deepens on your cheeks. “May I ask yours?” You want to be suspicious with how polite he’s being, which then strays you to mentally scold yourself, but you also can’t help the scars still etched into your conscious by your ex-boyfriend, who made you feel like you were crazy if you ever confronted him on his actions that would leave you so wounded. Moments where you’d ask him to try and be nicer, just for him to accuse you of being the rude one.

“[Y/N],” you timorously reply, finding it strange how you wish you could feel his hand again- how safe it seemed to hold it even if it was just for mere seconds.

“It’s nice to meet you,” he bows his head once before scanning the parking lot; quiet lingers other than the subtle sounds of breathing- white air still seen from how low the temperature is and you can’t help but feel guilty for how cold Jeongguk must be. There’s minimal awkward tension relating to what to say to continue a conversation, and with the stirring shock from earlier stemming, it’s as if something takes over you before you can stop yourself from speaking,

“He asked me a question he shouldn’t have asked,” gritting your teeth in irritation, you slam your eyes shut, because how do you know this stranger is going to take the time to listen, or even care about the situation you just experienced? Maybe this budding sense of trust that you can’t seem to fight embraces the courage of telling Jeongguk about tonight with the possibility of never seeing him again, so why be afraid? Why not tell him exactly what’s on your heart? What has been on your heart?

Eyebrows furrowed, a lightbulb seems to click when he remembers the car that sped off and Jeongguk patiently waits for you to continue while you slouch a tad against the bench, “That was my ex,”

Jeongguk’s eyes flicker along the side of your face while you compile your thoughts, “I’m sorry,” he whispers when he sees your expression fall into sadness.

“It’s okay,” you murmur, “I should have known better. He’s done it before,” there’s really not much you can say other than you’re humiliated with yourself, but what lessons can be learned if mistakes aren’t made? You’ve always been one to give second chances, and that’s what you thought tonight was going to be, but it was taken for granted. Little do you know, a chance to start over with someone new is blooming, but that’s something life isn’t going to show you right away, it’s something you will discover once you open your heart and forgive yourself, and to never forget how worth it you are. How deserving you are.

This man sitting beside you will cherish every bit of you, but neither of you know the future, and the pair of you are too busy shivering to truly take notice of the way destiny is planting its seeds within both of your souls. Though unaware, you will mend his broken heart the way that he will mend yours, proving to you what true love really is.

“I’m sorry,” you sigh between chattering teeth, “you must be freezing,”

“No, no I’m fine,” he reassures you, teeth showing from a crooked smile, even though his teeth were chattering moments ago, you find it extremely cute that he’s trying to pretend he’s not affected by this torturous excuse of weather. “Actually, if you need a ride home, I can take you,” he offers, “And, if you need to talk about everything and get things off your chest, I am a good listener,”

Holding his stare, you want so much to believe him, but you’re not one to put your trust into somebody that you don’t know; ashamed, you look down at your twiddling fingers, “That’s very sweet of you, but I don’t really get in cars with people I’ve just met,” you say honestly, half expecting him to be annoyed.

“Okay then,” instead, he surprises you with a cheery jingle to his tone, standing to his feet just to goofily spin around to face you, “How about the bus,” he offers his hand yet again, and how he read your mind from when you were battling with the daydream of holding it once more, you tilt your head at him with a smile you can’t help but give,

“Wait, what?”

“The bus,” he repeats with the widest smile you have seen yet, “It’s public, there is a bus stop literally diagonal from this restaurant, and I can guarantee you it’ll be warm,”

“But- but what about your car? Isn’t it here? My apartment is like, twenty minutes away from here give or take!”

“Nah,” he shrugs, “I will ride the bus back here to pick up my car, I only live 5 minutes away from this area,” he gestures with his hand which reminds you that it’s waiting just for you to hold, “Even if I lived another town away, I still, don’t mind.”

Overwhelmed by such a genuine smile exuberating from his features, even with your ex, he never showed you the pure kindness that this stranger by the name of Jeongguk has shown you in just a span of a few minutes.

“I- I don’t- I don’t know what to say,” you’re speechless, and this promising feeling beneath your chest gives way to any doubt you may have shadowed.

“You don’t have to say anything,” his eyes squint from how tickled he is by your flustered state, his inviting hand still outstretched. No more hesitation, you spring off the bench the exact moment your palm collides with his. As if two giggling young adults serenading the atmosphere isn’t enough to melt hearts all around the city, you’re beyond touched when you watch him pull enough money from his faded wallet to pay for your seat on the bus when it arrives.

“What are you- Jeongguk, you don’t have to do that,”

“Call me, Guk,” he winks over his shoulder where you stand behind him noticing how much he over towers you.

“Excuse me, Guk, I repeat, you don’t have to pay for me-”

“Hey, whatever it takes to make sure you have a ride home, I can take care of it,”

You gawk at him in utter amazement, because how? How can someone be so lovely?

“Is everything okay?” He peers at you after the both of you find empty seats upon the bus, and your mouth must have been ajar for quite sometime for it to feel so dry.

“I’m just- … I’m just so overwhelmed by your kindness,” your icy nose starting to warm from the air vents blowing inside the bus. “How are you so nice?”

A breathy laugh escapes past his grin, “It’s not hard to be kind,” he shrugs after a serious moment, the tips of his hair fluffing along his forehead almost falling into his eyes, “Sometimes one simple act of kindness is all it takes to make someone’s day better, you know?”

“Yeah,” you smile dreamily, leaning into his shoulder, “I know,”

There’s a moment shared, one neither of you can quite explain, no conversation needs to be held for the way your eyes speak is enough to know that there’s something beautiful glimmering between the pair of you. How can a chance like this even happen? Maybe meeting your ex after three years wasn’t a bad idea after all? It led you here, beside a handsome stranger who looks at you reflecting the same exact hope you’re starting to believe in again. As comforting as he seems, you place your head upon his shoulder, linking your arm with his, just fully soaking in his presence as much as you can, wishing that you didn’t have to go home just yet.

Smiles dim when the bus does stop where your apartment complex is hidden only a minute in the distance, and as much as you consider inviting him over for the evening, there’s still much trust you want to gain before making such a rash decision. If there’s a risk you’re going to take, you want to wait for the right opportunity. “I’m home now,” you mumble in disappointment, preparing to stand to your feet.

“Wait-” Jeongguk blurts discontinuing your movement to stand, “Here,” he hands you his phone the second he unlocks it, and while the passengers are lining within the aisle to exit the bus, you swiftly type in your number, heart beating to the point it pounds in your temples; handing him your phone for him to tap his number into, also. He stands with you, and for a moment, you wonder if he will hug you, but instead, that risk you were wondering about taking happens to spontaneously be made in this moment- this moment right here.

Bravery washes over you like never before, and when you place your hands upon Jeongguk’s shoulders, springing on your tiptoes, his face blurs before you peck his lips, and you don’t even give him time to process it. “Thank you,” you whisper, the sensation of how soft it felt to kiss him still lingering to the point, you have to refrain from turning around to collide into his arms. Even if some may find your move to be too bold, you don’t care. Jeongguk just gave you the best night you have had in a long while. And, it was very much needed.

You rush off the bus with adrenaline drenching your senses and long for the hope that you will hear from him soon. Sprinting to your apartment, you plop backward upon your bed, your phone flying into the pillows while you exhale in awe. Did tonight really just happen? Was Jeongguk even real? What if this was all a hallucination in order to make yourself feel better?

Even if it was, at least now he’s gifted you something you haven’t known how to re-insert back into your heart, and that’s hope. A new hope that there is a possibility of a brand-new start into a future you never dreamed could be so happy. If you thought your heart couldn’t soar any higher than it has been for the past five minutes, the faint buzz of your phone alerts you,

Guk: No no, [Y/N], thank YOU.

#btswritingcafe #jeon jeongguk #jeon jungkook #jungkook fluff #jungkook soft #jeongguk x reader #jeongguk x you #bts #bts jungkook #3.9k +#jeongguk one shot #jungkook one shot

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imlovethomassanders · 5 years

Text

Fake Fiance

So four of my fics didn’t show up in the tags because they had links to my ao3 account in them, so I’m reposting them w/o the links because I heavily depend on the tags for people to see them.

My ao3 account is glassesgay Check out my masterlist for the rest of my fics

Requested by anonymous

Summary: Roman is invited to a big Christmas party, but his ex is sure to be there. So Roman gets Logan to pretend to be his fiance.

Ship: Logince

Warnings: mentions of past unhealthy relationships

Word Count: 3811

Not posting my taglist as they were tagged in the original post

Logan was reading on the living room couch while Roman was in the armchair reading emails on his laptop and humming loudly. They had just finished eating dinner Roman cooked and were both draped in blankets with the fireplace on to combat the freezing cold outside.

It was a normal, cozy evening for them.

Logan had been Roman’s roommate for almost six months now. Logan had been a student majoring in chemical engineering, but decided to get a teaching degree so he could teach high school students and maybe become a professor one day. But he refused to stay in a dorm again, so he looked for apartment roommate applications and found Roman. Roman was a year older than him and had graduated as a musical theater major.

While Logan went to school, Roman got roles in nearby productions. But right now in December, Roman was in between parts and Logan was off for winter break, leaving them with a few weeks of peace.

“Dammit,” Roman hissed as he shut his laptop. Logan quirked an eyebrow up and glanced at Roman over his glasses.

“What happened?” Logan asked.

“I got invited to this really big Christmas party being hosted by a former director of mine tomorrow night,” Roman huffed. "It’s a really big deal with lots of talent scouts and agents and like so it’s a great place for actors to do some networking.“

"So what’s the problem?” Logan sighed as he put his book down, able to tell that this was going to be a longer conversation than he would have liked.

“I dated a guy I was in a show with and he’s on the email list,” Roman groaned as he rubbed his hands down his face. "And I know he’s going to go.“

”…And?“

"I can’t let him see me alone,” Roman muttered into his hands. He suddenly snapped his head up and glanced towards Logan.

“Heyyyyy Logannn…” Roman drawled in that voice he adopts whenever he wants something.

“What?” Logan asked flatly, knowing immediately he wasn’t going to like whatever was going to come out of Roman’s mouth.

“Do you think you could do me a huge favor?”

“Depends.”

“Come to the party with me and pretend to be my fiance?” Roman asked so quickly anyone who wasn’t Logan wouldn’t be able to understand him.

Logan stared at him.

“…No.”

“Oh, come on, Logan. Please?” Roman asked. Logan almost winced at Roman’s voice crack. He sounded so desperate. It was so unlike Roman.

It was unsettling.

“I promise I’ll never play my music too loud again. And I won’t sing in the shower when you’re trying to sleep. And I won’t make fun of your fashion choice anymore. And I won’t-”

“Shut up, Roman,” Logan sighed. Roman snapped his mouth shut. He stared at Logan with such pleading eyes, even Logan couldn’t find it in him to say no.

“…Fine.”

Instead of the loud exclamation of excitement Logan was expecting, Roman just huffed a huge sigh of relief.

“Thank you,” he said as he leaned back against the chair.

Logan continued to stare at Roman.

“I’m exhausted,” Roman eventually said. "I’m going to bed. I’ll see you in the morning.“

And Roman walked off.

Logan tried to keep reading his book, but after about twenty minutes of rereading the same few pages he gave up and went to get ready for bed.

Logan couldn’t fall asleep. He laid still, staring at the wall, and wondered what he just got himself into.

Logan had been conflicted with his feelings for Roman over the last couple of months, and he had a feeling he’d soon be able to draw a conclusion.

He turned on his back so he was staring at the ceiling. He wasn’t an actor like Roman. He wasn’t great at socializing. What would he tell people if they asked how they met? The last thing he wanted was to embarrass Roman, but Logan couldn’t guarantee it to himself that he wouldn’t.

How much would he have to commit to this? Holding hands was probably a must. Would they have to do anything more?

Logan quickly stopped that train of thought before his mind went too far.

He turned back onto his side and closed his eyes, determined to get at least a few hours of sleep.

Logan woke up groggy and disoriented. He groaned as he looked at the clock and saw it was ten in the morning. Logan rarely allowed himself to sleep in this late.

He stretched as he got up before grabbing a sweater and glasses and going to the kitchen for coffee.

Roman was up and making breakfast when Logan walked in.

"Morning,” Roman said as he scrambled some eggs. "You slept in pretty late. You feeling okay?“

"Coffee,” Logan mumbled as he sat down on a bar stool. Roman laughed as he turned on the Keurig.

“Want some eggs?”

Logan nodded and Roman went to get more eggs out of the fridge and put more bread in the toaster.

“So… about the party,” Roman said after a few moments of silence.

“What about it? And thanks,” Logan said as he was handed a mug of coffee.

“I thought a lot about it last night,” Roman started. Logan could say the same. "And I think we need to get some sort of backstory straight in case any of my old cast mates ask. I haven’t seen most of them in a few years so we can get away with quite a bit.“

"And the ones you have seen recently?” Logan asked.

“There’s only a few I meet with regularly. I already told them and they’re on our side.”

“You and your friends are ridiculous,” Logan muttered into this coffee mug. Roman laughed.

“You’re not wrong.”

“I never am.”

“So… backstory,” Roman said, getting back to the topic at hand. Logan sighed. He really just wanted breakfast.

“Let’s just say we were roommates and started dating. It’ll be easier to keep fact straight if we base it on our real life,” Logan said, eyeing the toast that popped out of the toaster.

“Yeah, okay,” Roman said as he got the toast out of the toaster and started to make plates for him and Logan. "I was thinking we say we started dating in January so we would have been dating for almost two years. And we can say I proposed to you this November,“ Roman said as he handed Logan a plate of scrambled eggs and toast.

"Works for me,” Logan muttered as he stuffed toast into his mouth.

“We’ll have to dress up,” Roman said as he walked around to sit on the barstool next to Logan. "You got anything?“

"I have a suit, yes.”

Silence fell over them as they ate. Roman was a really good cook, and everything he made was fantastic. Logan thought he maybe should tell Roman that more often.

“I really appreciate this, Logan,” Roman suddenly whispered. "I know you don’t want to do this, but it means a lot to me.“

Roman looked over at Logan. Logan looked up from his own plate and saw such a soft almost desperate expression on Roman’s face that his heart just broke in half.

"It’s fine, Roman,” Logan assured, hoping the heat in his face wasn’t causing any noticeable blush.

Evening came much too soon. Before he knew it, Logan found himself slicking back his hair and putting on his suit, which was just a normal black one. Logan preferred to keep it simple and safe. He grabbed his wallet, keys, and phone before walking out into the living room. Unsurprisingly, Roman wasn’t out yet. Roman always took longer to get ready than Logan.

“Roman?” he called as he sat down on the couch.

“Just a few more minutes!”

Logan eventually heard Roman’s bedroom door open and he stood up.

“Okay,” Roman said as he finally left his room. "How do I look?“

He was wearing a light gray suit with a red vest. Logan recalled Roman once saying he would never be caught dead in a plain black suit. His hair was styled but still wavy, and he had put a bit of concealer on his face.

He looked incredible. Logan felt heat rise in his face and then wished that he had on concealer so the red on his cheeks wouldn’t be so noticeable.

Logan didn’t see the blush building on Roman’s own face as he glanced Logan up and down.

“You look good,” Logan said, embarrassed by how nervous his voice sounded.

“You do, too,” Roman said. Logan told himself the breathiness in Roman’s voice was from nerves and nothing else.

“Okay,” Roman said. “Let’s go.”

The two exited the apartment building in silence before stepping outside. It was dark with street lamps and light from windows being the primary light sources.

"It shouldn’t take too long to get there,” Roman said as he hailed down a taxi. His face was much more red now due to the cold and his breath was visible as he talked.

The atmosphere in the taxi was tense with nerves. Roman and Logan reminded mostly silent until they got close to the building.

“I’ll do most of the talking, since I know you won’t want to,” Roman said as he shook his leg. "Just stick with me and it’ll be okay.“

"Roman,” Logan said. Roman glanced over at Logan with wide, nervous eyes. "You’re going to be fine. We have our story down, and besides, you’re great at improv. You can handle this.“

Flattery got you everywhere with Roman and Logan knew this. After Logan’s words, Roman did seem to calm down significantly.

"You’re right.”

“I always am.”

The taxi stopped in front of the pavilion the party was being held. The building was large and intimidating with bright lights and lots of people outside in suits and dresses.

Roman took a deep breath before stepping out of the taxi.

Roman reached over and took Logan’s hands as they walked up the steps. As they walked, many people started to greet Roman.

Clearly, Roman does more networking already than he let on.

“Roman!” they heard a woman’s voice say once they were inside. They turned around to see an older, tall blonde woman in a black dress walking towards them.

“Olivia! Roman called back. He let go of Logan’s hand to embrace her. "It’s great to see you again.”

“Who’s this with you?” she asked.

“Olivia, this is my fiance, Logan,” Roman beamed. "Logan, this is Olivia. She’s directed multiple shows I’ve been in.“ Logan smiled at her politely as Olivia gasped.

"Roman Prince!” she exclaimed with a large grin on her face. "I leave you alone for a couple of years and you get engaged?“

She was quite loud, so her last statement caught the attention of a few others.

"Well, Logan, it’s lovely to meet you,” Olivia said as he pulled an unsuspecting Logan into a hug. "I have to go greet others, but I’ll find my way back to you two eventually. You have to tell me everything!“

"Will do, Olivia,” Roman laughed. She waved at them as she walked off towards other groups of people.

They then heard a cough behind them. They turned to see two men standing hand in hand.

Logan assumed one of them was the dreaded ex.

“Roman,” one of them said.

“Hello, Joshua,” Roman replied.

“Good to see you. And who is this?” he asked, gesturing to Logan.

“I’m his fiance,” Logan answered, holding out his hand. He was determined to keep his voice confident and sharp. "It’s nice to meet you. How do you know Roman?“

Josh looked him up and down before taking his hand. "We were in a show together a while back.”

“And who’s with you?” Roman asked.

“I’m Josh’s boyfriend, Daniel,” the other man replied, not even trying to hide his disdain.

“Pleased to meet you,” Roman replied back.

“I’m glad to see you’re doing well,” Joshua said coldly. "Been up to anything recently?“

"I just finished a show,” Roman said. "My agent found me a few auditions in January so I’ll be back in business very shortly. How about you?“

"Oh, Daniel and I have been auditioning. We’re just taking some time off to spend time together for the holidays,” Joshua said as he took Daniel’s hand back in his.

“I know what you mean,” Roman smiled widely as he placed an arm around Logan’s waist.

“Well, I’m sure we both have rounds to make. Hope to run into you again later this evening,” Joshua said.

“Likewise,” Roman said. Then both couples walked away.

That conversation was the most passive aggressive thing Logan’s ever witnessed. Are theater people always this over the top?

Logan soon found out that they indeed were.

After that encounter with Joshua, Roman was tense. But after a few conversations with old friends and colleagues, Roman was as happy as ever. Logan was pleased that his performance as Roman’s fiance has been adequate enough to not blow their cover.

Roman and Logan went to get drinks, and as soon as Roman handed Logan a glass of champagne Olivia popped out from somewhere and ushered them to a small group of people that Logan recognized as Roman’s friends, along with Joshua and Daniel.

“Your friends and I want to know about you two!” she exclaimed. Logan hide to hide a smirk as Olivia, Joshua, and Daniel were the only ones in the group who didn’t know this was fake. "No one here had any idea you were engaged, Roman! And Logan, honey, we know nothing about you. I have to make sure my baby Roman picked a good one.“

"Well, I finished school with a degree in chemical engineering, and currently I’m back at school to get a teaching degree,” Logan said.

“Wow, okay, then. Roman, I approve,” Olivia said, clearly impressed.

“How’d you two meet?” one of Roman’s friends asked. She must have just been trying to mess with Roman, as they shared a look before Roman spoke.

“Logan answered to my roommate ad,” he said. "We started dating in January, two months after we met for the first time.“

"Who proposed?” someone else asked. Roman was really good at glaring at friends without appearing suspicious and he still seemed as confident as ever.

“I did. I took Logan to the restaurant where we had our first date and proposed there.”

“Logan, this may seem like a personal question, remember we’re all Roman’s good friends here. And also, as Roman’s stage mama I have to know. We just want what’s best for him ,” Olivia said. Logan looked at her expectantly and waited for her to continue.

“What made you know you loved Roman?”

Logan froze but quickly recovered. He hated talking about these sorts of things, especially with strangers even if it was fake. But he agreed to help Roman, and he wasn’t going to mess this up with him.

Logan wasn’t an actor, so for the first time that night he decided the best thing would be to tell the truth.

“I thought he was annoying at first,” he admitted, causing the others to laugh (especially Joshua, it seemed). "But then I got to know him better. What I thought was him just being obnoxious was actually passion. He’s so passionate about everything he does and truly loves his profession. I really admire that about him.“

Logan felt Roman’s gaze upon him and gulped before continuing.

"And before I met Roman, I was adamant about remaining detached from everything. But Roman’s excitement for life started to rub off on me. He taught me to allow myself to feel and enjoy what’s happening around me. To stop worrying so much about the future and focus on what I have now.”

Roman’s grip around Logan’s waist tightened.

“All in all, he just made me a better me. I’m happiest when I’m around him. I don’t know where’d I’d be if I didn’t have him.”

Olivia beamed at him while Joshua looked slightly annoyed. And by the soft looks of pity on Roman’s friends face they must have been able to tell that was real.

Logan was snapped out of his daze by Roman kissing his temple.

“That’s so sweet,” Olivia said.

Sensing Logan was uncomfortable, Roman took up the conversation from there. After a few moments, Logan excused himself for the bathroom.

Logan locked the door behind him and leaned against it He unbuttoned the top button of his shirt and undid his tie. He went to the sink and splashed water on his face a couple of times.

This was getting too painful.

Everything was too real.

Emotions weren’t Logan’s strong suit, and he didn’t know what to make of everything he was feeling right now.

Logan was scared by how easy it was to take Roman’s hand and pretend to be his. It was scary how convincing a couple they were.

But they weren’t. And come the end of the night, this charade will be over and Logan will just have to try his best to forget what being with Roman was like.

He tried to remember how he ignored his emotions before he met Roman, because he could really use that right now.

He wiped his face dry and stared at himself in the mirror. He would just have to accept that this is something he wouldn’t be able to forget. He just had to come to terms with what he was feeling.

He had to come to terms that he really did love Roman.

And that hurt more than any pain he’d felt before in his life.

He closed his eyes and took another deep breath before buttoning his shirt again.

As he tied his tie, he tried to convince himself he could do this. Just go out there, be Roman’s for the evening, then everything will go back to normal.

When he came back to the group, Roman and Joshua were gone.

“Where’d they go?” Logan asked.

“They went off to get drinks,” Olivia replied.

“Would you mind if I went to find them?” Logan asked.

“Not at all.”

“Logan went to the bar but they were nowhere to be seen. He did a walk through of all the downstairs rooms but still couldn’t see them.

He walked up the grand staircase to see that upstairs was much less crowded than downstairs, which should make this easier.

All the upstairs rooms’ doors were propped open, allowing Logan to quickly look in to see if they were there.

He was about to leave one room when he heard voices, and one sounded a lot like Roman’s. Logan walked into the room and saw two figures standing outside on the balcony.

"You know I’m right, Roman. You-”

“No. Shut up. I never want to see you again in my life,” Logan heard Roman seethe.

Joshua then opened the door into the room and stormed past Logan, shoving him with his shoulder on his way out. Logan slowly made his way to the balcony.

“Want to tell me what happened?” Logan asked as he opened the door to the balcony, startling Roman who was leaning against the rail. Roman just sighed.

“He just… I’m not even sure what he wanted. He might have been trying to get me back with him?”

Logan went and stood next to Roman and leaned down on the railing so their faces were level with each other.

“What happened between you two?”

Roman sighed.

“He was really manipulative when we dated,” Roman admitted. "He knew I was insecure, and used flattery to get whatever he want out of me, whether I wanted to or not,“ Roman spat. "Then it turned out he was cheating on me and left me for Daniel.”

Logan just stared at Roman.

“When he left, he told me I was impossible to love. That I was never going to find anyone who loved me. And I was so insecure I believed him.”

Roman shook his head.

“It took a lot to build my confidence back after all that mess, and sometimes it’s still hard to shake off the feeling that he was right. That’s why I wanted you with me tonight. I wanted him to think that he was wrong. I also didn’t want to face him alone.”

“He is wrong.”

Roman chuckled and ducked his head.

“Thanks, Specs.”

Silence.

“You don’t believe me,” Logan said.

Roman looked over at him.

“I’m never wrong, Roman.”

“Logan, I-”

“I mean, logically, how could anyone look at you and think your unlovable? You a kindhearted person who dedicates one-hundred percent to your loved ones. Yo’re such a nice person to be around. You liven up every room you walk into. You’re incredibly passionate and are able to find an exciting spark to every situation. Not to mention you are infuriatingly gorgeous and- mmph!”

Roman cut Logan off by kissing him. When Logan didn’t kiss back, Roman quickly pulled away.

“I- I’m so sorry, Logan. I- I didn’t- I thought-”

Logan cut him off by grabbing his jacket and pulling Roman to him and kissing him.

They were still against each other for a moment before Roman relaxed and placed his hands on Logan’s cheeks. Logan’s hands remained on Roman’s chest as Roman deepened the kiss.

They pulled back after who knows how long and gasped for air, staring at each other with wide eyes. Roman quickly pulled Logan back to him, both of them hungry and desperate, trying to get as much of each other as they could. Roman’s hands tangled themselves in Logan’s hair as Logan wrapped his arms around Roman.

They separated again, breathing heavy with their lips red. Roman gingerly traced a hand on Logan’s cheek before taking a shaky breath.

Logan slowly leaned over and pressed his lips on Roman’s briefly before pulling back again.

“Roman Prince, you are absolutely incredible,” Logan said. Roman threw his arms around Logan and buried his face against Logan’s neck. "Everything I said downstairs was true. You’ve helped me so much and you make me so incredibly happy.“

Roman took a shaky breath as he pulled himself closer to Logan.

Logan held Roman as he collected himself. Eventually, Roman pulled away and wiped his eyes.

"Are you okay?”

“I’m amazing,” Roman grinned. He smoothed Logan’s hair that had been mussed up by his fingers.

“We should probably go downstairs,” Logan said.

“Yeah, we probably should.”

Roman held out his hand and smiled as they intertwined their fingers. Logan was walking back to the party with a newfound comfort and confidence. He was ready for the rest of this evening, knowing everything was real and that this wouldn’t be over at the end of the night.

Logan squeezed Roman’s hand, and he was ready.

#thomas sanders #sanders sides #roman sanders #logan sanders #logince

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elysiumwaits · 5 years

Note

Hey! For the two words prompt, can I request some ‘moonlight dancing’, please? I’ve had a craving for some slow dancing fic for a while now and I’d love to see what you do with it. As for the pairing, some Sterek, Stucky, Merthur or even some Thor/Bruce, if any of those inspire you. Thank you. 😊

Well, the good news is that I’ve got 1800 words of sappy wedding reception Stucky for you. The bad news is that I completely dropped the ball on the “moonlight” part of the “moonlight dancing” prompt. So if you could just picture a giant moon as the backdrop for this fic, I’d appreciate it.

My timeline for this fic puts this in the February of 2019, because timelines are hard in the MCU anyway. So this would put this fic before Doris Day passed away in May. Also, I believe the MCU puts Bucky Barnes somewhere around the age of 95? So I played with that a bit.

Here, you’ll need these, make yourself a playlist and set them up for the duration of the fic:

Doris Day version: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=h7j8wa9sWOE

Ella Fitzgerald and Louis Armstrong: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=j6TmogXhOZ8

Kate Smith: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=dh8hW0irwpo

I refuse to link to Michael Buble because I can't stand listening to him sing thanks to many years of having to listen to one album of his on repeat at a book and toy store I worked at (and then, for two months out of the year, his Christmas album).

Nothing to tag for, no spoilers here.

I Linger On, Dear on AO3

The garden was lit by strings of fairy lights that zig-zagged overhead, and every-so-often by the big burning lanterns along the walkway that burned primarily to provide warmth to the party-goers. The moonlight did a lot for them as well, big and full above, not drowned out by the light pollution of the city. The party itself was dying down, guests having gone inside to the mansion to warm up and start saying their goodbyes, or perhaps be enticed into one more drink by their charming host and hostess.

Most of the people they knew as friends but not family would dissipate, unable to be swayed by even Tony Stark’s extensive liquor collection and insistence that they have “one more, just one more, I’m paying for all the safe transportation home, after all.” If Tony didn’t manage to convince them, Pepper just might try to ply them with the wine she can’t actually have at six and a half months pregnant.

Their family, though, won’t leave - there are rooms throughout the mansion, plenty of them, but most of them won’t be even approached until close to dawn, and it’s only a quarter until midnight now. The big celebration is over, but the smaller, more important one is just beginning, and will no doubt carry on through the night with drunken, half-sleepy conversations with people who recognize that these truly blissful moments are few and far between.

The band has packed up and gone home. Their set ended at eleven, even though Clint had to be lured away from the drummer’s kit by Natasha promising him some complicated, fancy-sounding drink that was probably just going to be vodka, V8, and Sprite. Even after he’d gotten out of the band’s hair enough that they could pack up and be tipped generously by Tony, the drummer had loudly wondered where he’d put his drumsticks, none the wiser to Clint (accidentally) taking a souvenir.

As a result, the dance floor is empty, but there’s a Bluetooth speaker built into the pavilion that Steve is taking full advantage of, albeit very quietly. His suit isn’t as neat as it was earlier, and the drink in his hand does absolutely nothing to get him anywhere even close to drunk, but he’s probably the happiest he’s ever been. He’s enjoying the peace and quiet of the garden, the distant sounds of revelry filtering through the open doors of the mansion, and the pavilion is heated so he’s not even cold.

“I want you to know that I still think an outdoor reception in the middle of February is a little ridiculous,” a warm voice says from behind him.

Steve grins and waits without turning on the bench for Bucky to get closer. He expects for Bucky to sit down next to him, but instead he gets arms wrapped around him from behind, looping across his shoulders while Bucky’s chin rests gently on the top of his head.

“That can’t be comfortable,” Steve says, grin widening. “Stealth big-spooning doesn’t count.”

“Well, if you would give me a shot at it one of these nights.” Bucky sounds amused though, and pulls away to come around the bench and stand in front of Steve.

He looks good, jacket lost and sleeves of his white button-up rolled halfway up his forearms. The tie he’d worn is undone and just hanging out of the collar of his shirt, while his hair falls halfway out of the neat ponytail he’d been wearing all day. He’s, in short, a bit of a rumpled mess, which is just how Steve likes him.

“What, you haven’t heard enough of this song?” Bucky teases when he finally hears the soft music playing through the speakers. “The Doris Day version, isn’t it? Turn it up.”

Steve obliges by reaching for his phone and turning the volume up a couple of notches, just in time to hear Doris Day sing about sweet dreams and leaving all worries behind you. They listen for the last little bit of the song before it fades away, and jazz trumpets begin. Bucky smiles then, as Ella Fitzgerald begins to sing about stars shining bright.

“Mr. Barnes,” Bucky says, and holds out his hand, “may I have this dance?”

“You may, Mr. Rogers,” Steve replies, taking his hand and allowing himself to be pulled to his feet, even as Bucky huffs out a laugh.

“I realize it’s your maiden name, but these days when I hear it I think of sweaters and the neighborhood.” Bucky falls into the lead role of the slow, swaying dance they do, metal hand placed on Steve’s waist while his other fingers curl around Steve’s. It’s a throwback to when Steve was smaller, when it made more sense for Steve to follow when Bucky was attempting to teach him to dance. Now they’re the same height, but here, Steve holds Bucky’s hand and rests his other on Bucky’s shoulder.

A faux-put-upon sigh escapes Steve. “I know, that’s why we went with Barnes. Trust me, I’ve been hearing it for years now, I don’t need it from you too.” He lets Bucky slowly move them around the empty dance floor as the soft music plays and Louis Armstrong comes in to sing with Ella.

“I don’t think the band did a bad job with it,” Bucky says after a long moment of swaying and listening. “It’s just too bad Doris Day wasn’t available, or that we didn’t get married early enough for Kate Smith or Ella Fitzgerald.”

“Doris Day is ninety-seven, Bucky,” Steve chides. “She didn’t need Tony Stark bribing her to sing our wedding song.”

“I’m ninety-seven.” Bucky chooses that moment to guide Steve into a slow spin, letting go of Steve’s waist and lifting a hand to let Steve turn, before tugging him back even closer than before. “But you probably don’t want me trying to croon into a microphone, if how you react to my karaoke is any indication.”

“Little hard to dance with you if you perform your own wedding song, Buck.”

Ella Fitzgerald and Louis Armstrong fade away, leading into soft guitar, and Bucky wrinkles his nose. “Skip this one,” he says, pausing their dance.

Steve fishes the phone out from his suit pocket, rolls his eyes and bites a smile back as he does as he’s asked. “I think Michael Buble is nice.”

Kate Smith starts to sing, piano playing to accompany. It’s not the version they heard back in the day, instead the one from the 1950s show, but Bucky starts to move them across the dance floor once more.

“He screwed up the tempo,” Bucky says. “It’s too fast. The one that came out in the 60s did too, I don’t remember what they were called.”

“The Mamas and the Papas.” Steve can’t fight the smile anymore. He’s just so ridiculously happy, and there’s a gold band glinting off the fairy lights around them on the ring finger of his left hand. “And then there’s that guy with Lily Allen. I liked that one too.”

He knows there’s a matching gold ring on a chain underneath Bucky’s white shirt. He hadn’t wanted to wear it on the Winter Soldier arm, still a sore subject more than anything, and he’d considered briefly wearing it on his right hand before finally settling on the chain he swears to Steve he’ll never take off except to shower or if he’s undercover. Steve has a chain as well - the ring isn’t terribly comfortable under the gloves of his suit, after all.

“What have you got to smile about?” Bucky pesters, like he’s not grinning too. “You’re stuck with me for good now, punk. No refunds or exchanges. You don’t even have the receipt, so HYDRA definitely won’t take me back now.”

“I think technically I stole you, so I wouldn’t have a receipt anyway.” Steve flexes his hand in Bucky’s, squeezing tight, but is careful not to do the same with the hand on Bucky’s left shoulder.

Bucky drags Steve even closer, until his hand isn’t on his waist but instead on Steve’s lower back. “You’re telling me I married a thief? I want a divorce.” At Steve’s laugh, he adds, gentler, “What are you smiling about, Stevie?”

“Sam’s best man speech,” Steve teases, even though they both know that’s not exactly what’s got him so happy. “He spent the whole time insulting you, and you still cried. You can’t fool me, Buck, I saw you wipe a tear away when you thought nobody was looking.”

“Only because he was my best man, and he spent the whole time insulting me.” Bucky’s grumbling, but he can’t hide the twinkle in his eye. “Seriously, ‘you stay on a man’s left for years and his elderly ex-boyfriend shows up to sweep him off his feet, so now you gotta move even farther to the left,’ and people laughed! Clint asked if I got a senior discount on my suit.”

Steve laughs. “You were the one that asked about a senior discount on the suit when we went to get them fitted!”

The playlist loops around, and Doris Day starts again.

Bucky leans forward, pressing his cheek to Steve’s. “What are you smiling about, Steve? What’s got you so happy?” he asks one more time, softly, like he doesn’t already know, while Doris Day softly sings that night breezes seem to whisper ‘I love you.’

“You said it yourself,” Steve murmurs, couldn’t stop grinning even if he wanted to. “I’m stuck with you for good now. No refunds or exchanges, don’t even have the receipt.” He pauses, loops his arm more firmly around Bucky’s neck. “‘Til the end of the line.”

“Sap,” Bucky says, and his voice is a little rough, just like it had been during Sam’s best man speech. “You’re gonna whip out that line every time you get the chance, huh? Just because you know it gets to me.”

“Well, it is actually a vow now. The ‘’til death do us part’ vow obviously didn’t apply to either of us, so I had to get creative.” They’ve stopped actually moving their feet, just standing and holding each other while swaying. “Now you know how much I mean it.”

“I always knew you meant it,” Bucky says. “Now stop trying to make me cry at my own wedding reception for the second time in one night.”

“Third.”

“One of those was at the altar, not the reception, it doesn’t count.” Bucky starts to pull away, but Steve holds fast. “I was supposed to come and bring you inside. They’re probably taking blackmail photos from the windows.”

“You called the official photos that we paid for blackmail too.” Steve tugs Bucky back into him, pressing himself close. “One more dance.”

“Yeah,” Bucky agrees, relaxes and starts to guide them around the floor once more. “One more. But in your dreams, whatever they be…”

Above them, the lights twinkle, and around them drifts the soft lyrics of their song, as they slowly sway together. Steve smiles, and listens to Bucky’s off-key singing, gentle in his ear.

“Dream a little dream of me.”

#stucky #fic prompt #fanfiction #writing #dream a little dream of me

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andavs · 6 years

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I wish you’d write a fic where... Laura plays matchmaker for Derek and Stiles!

The car rolled to a stop outside of the fanciest restaurant in town and Derek sighed instinctively. He turned to his sister behind the wheel, who was severely underdressed for this place, and said,

“Laura, I asked you to stop doing this.”

She smiled guiltily—actually guiltily, so at least she really felt bad about this time.

“I know, and I promise I wouldn’t have set this up if I didn’t think you two would hit it off. But—”

Derek rolled his eyes. “You said that about Marcus.” Laura nodded, accepting the blame. “And Rose. And Trevor. And—”

“I get it!” she interrupted. “I’ve misjudged, but I’ve taken all that feedback you gave me—loudly and with a lot of swearing—and I’ve really gotten to know this guy! I did background checks and everything!”

“Those online background checks aren’t as accurate as you think.” Derek should know; two of his exes were squeaky clean according to those checks…right up until the assault and attempted arson and all of the organized crime.

“I know, I remember, and don’t worry about it. That won’t be an issue with this one.” She grinned. “He had impeccable references.”

That was a new one.

“You called references?”

“I talked to every single one of his coworkers, and a smattering of his Facebook friends, particularly ones from high school he doesn’t seem to talk to anymore.” She shrugged at Derek’s raised eyebrow. “If they don’t talk to him anymore, I wanted to make sure it wasn’t for a crazy reason.”

He had to admit, that was reassuring, if only minorly.

She smiled softly. “Trust me, Derek. I wouldn’t put you through this if I didn’t really think it would work.”

Derek held back his kneejerk response of, then why didn’t you just introduce us at a friendly brunch like a normal person, and returned her smile. Somewhat.

“If he sucks, I’m never talking to you ever again,” he said, and got out of the car before she could respond. He didn’t look back either, because she was probably watching him with a wistful smile on her face like a mom sending her child off to their first day of school.

A doorman led him through the formal lobby into the restaurant and up to the host, who greeted him warmly from behind his podium.

“Name?”

“Derek Hale.”

The host ran his finger down the handwritten ledger and checked his name off with a perfect checkmark. There was another name written next to his, but he couldn’t read the loopy, old fashioned cursive upside down, and it felt odd to ask who his date was.

He was led through the dimly lit restaurant to a booth on the back wall. It was out of the way of server traffic to the kitchen, a little secluded with the high backs of the booths, and every table was lit with a calmly flickering candle. It was the perfect place for a cozy, romantic date. Laura knew what she was doing.

With nothing else to do and feeling uncomfortable about it, he glanced around the dim restaurant at the other diners. Most were nicely dressed couples, a few larger booths were clearly business meetings, there seemed to be a teenage girl’s birthday dinner happening in a private room behind closed french doors. It was crowded but not very loud; no one talked above a civil indoor voice, and even the small quartet playing in the corner kept it down.

This was really not his type of place.

He turned his attention to the menu to keep from obsessively watching the door for whoever he was meeting.

The menus were hefty, hardback books that only had two pages; one dish for each type of meat and a vegetarian option. It was all in French, which Derek could speak, but that wasn’t always a good sign on a menu in America.

(There was a tiny part of his paranoid brain wondering if it was all part of Laura’s plan. She was definitely the type to think that translating the menu for a date was adorable.)

“Oh god,” a familiar voice said, and when Derek looked up to see who it was, he dropped his menu onto his plates—three, stacked neatly—with a clatter.

A few of the surrounding tables glanced back at the minor commotion, which might as well have been a scream in the calm and hushed atmosphere of the restaurant, but Derek couldn’t bring himself to care, because Deputy Stilinski was coming towards his table with purpose. Not about to arrest you purpose, not in that well fitting suit. But with I had no idea you were my date and I’m not happy about it purpose.

Derek could relate.

“No,” he said. It was the only word that made it through the hailstorm of panic, anger, and cursing that was thundering through his brain.

All of Laura’s background checks, her reference calling, the supposedly in-depth conversations they had—had she never once mentioned Derek’s full name? Anything about him at all?

She never thought to check if the man she was trying to set her brother up with—the man she claimed was perfect for him in every way—was his own dickhead neighbor who he had regular shouting matches with ever since Derek moved in three months ago?

Stiles Stilinski of apartment 7C was a dick of the highest order who abused his power as a deputy pretty much every day. He pounded on their neighbors’ doors with his badge and threatened to arrest them for disturbing the peace if they weren’t dead silent at all hours; Derek stole “his” (unassigned) parking space and the next day got a parking ticket for a meter expired by two seconds (three times); he’d accused a number of people of stealing his mail and threatened to press charges once he proved it (he never did), and when one guy set his trash bag against the dumpster instead of in it, Stiles got him fined for $50 and yelled at him about it.

This was who Laura thought he was perfect for?

Deputy Stilinski, who just that morning, had almost hit Derek’s Camaro in the parking lot as he got home from his night shift, just as Derek was backing out to go to work. Their angry yelling had woken every resident with a lot-facing window, and someone on the fourth floor had thrown a very brown banana down at them.

Derek had escaped while Stiles was threatening to arrest whoever threw it.

“Laura Hale,” Stiles muttered, connecting the dots as he dropped into the seat across the table. “Of course—of course, the eyebrows.”

Derek scowled, and Stiles waved a hand at him like he was proving his point, which soured his mood even further.

It was unfortunate that Stiles was such an ass, because he really did look great in his suit.

“Your sister is something else, you know that?” he griped, shaking out his napkin and putting it in his lap.

“Couldn’t agree more.”

“At least there’s one thing we agree on.” Stiles craned his neck, squinting out at the dimly lit restaurant. “How do we get booze in here, I don’t want to be sober right now.”

“Laura paid for a bottle of wine.” Derek offered, taking it out of the fancy bucket of ice standing next to their table and Stiles accepted his offer by holding out his wine glass. “Say when,” Derek said drily, and Stiles said nothing until the glass was dangerously close to overflowing.

Yeah, that pretty much summed up the evening already.

Neither of them was particularly interested in attempting a conversation, so Stiles opened his menu and after his eyes roamed around briefly, he frowned.

He didn’t speak French.

Derek hid his smirk behind his own menu. Normally, he would’ve offered to translate anything, but he really just wanted to watch the dickhead struggle.

Their server, Michael, returned shortly after to break the awkward tension. Judging by his sympathetic expression, and the way his eyes lingered on Stiles’ near-overflowing wine glass, he knew this date wasn’t going well and did his best to bring up the mood, but there was no saving it.

He guided Stiles through the menu, answering his exhaustive questions about different dishes, and then smiled gratefully when Derek ordered his own meal with perfect French pronunciation.

When Michael left the table with their menus, Stiles was scowling at Derek.

“You speak French.”

Derek shrugged. “A little.”

Stiles narrowed his eyes and took a long sip of his wine.

A tiny part of Derek hoped he’d choke on it.

“What’s your problem with me, anyway?” he couldn’t help asking, and in answer to his prayers, Stiles actually did choke on his wine a little bit and coughed.

“My problem? You’re the one who’s such a dick to me all the time!”

“Because you’re a dick to everyone.” At Stiles’ scoff, Derek frowned. “You threatened to arrest one of our neighbors this morning.” Shouted it up to him on the fourth floor from the parking lot, in front of everyone.

“Because he was dropping shit from four floors up! That’s high enough to hurt someone, or cause property damage if it hits a car!”

Derek rolled his eyes at the weak excuse. “It was an old banana.”

“The point still stands!”

“You threatened to arrest Sheila because her tea kettle was too loud.”

“If she’s going to take that long to take it off the stove, she shouldn’t have one that whistles,” he snapped, and Derek just raised his eyebrows through Stiles’ moment of self-reflection, because Sheila was well over eighty years old.

Stiles set down his glass of wine and said in shock, “Holy shit, I’m an asshole.”

Derek nodded condescendingly. “You really are.”

“But I’m not an asshole,” he insisted, like he was trying to convince himself.

“Well, you have been the entire time I’ve known you.”

“In my defense, you’ve only known me while I’ve been intensely sleep deprived and willing to resort to abuse of power to get some god damn sleep, no matter who I have to yell at.”

“Oh, so you’re only being a dick because you’re tired?” That didn’t make it better. How was he a deputy?

That made Stiles glare, swirling his wine glass sloppily. “I admit, it’s not my greatest character trait, but I don’t think you realize the level of tired and stressed I am, at all times.” Derek stared, not giving an ounce of sympathy, so Stiles continued. “This case has been building for five months. We’re understaffed, everyone’s been working overtime, constantly, I’ve slept like six hours in the last week, and we just can’t catch a fucking break.” He took a gulp of wine and probably didn’t taste any of it.

Derek’s eyes followed the glass as he set it down on the table, and when it settled, it was already almost empty. “Should you be drinking on so little sleep?”

He shrugged. “Don’t care. I’m having a personality crisis, I need it.” He then turned his attention to the bread basket and dove in.

“What is this huge case?” Derek asked, desperate for a distraction from watching Stiles stuff practically an entire thick cut slice of rye into his mouth. He was also hoping to find out a little more about what Laura was working on, because she hadn’t told anyone anything about it, at all. She was a city prosecutor, and all Derek knew was that her current case was big, important, and could potentially change Beacon Hills forever. And if there was a case big enough for the entire Sheriff’s Department to be working overtime, it was probably also Laura’s.

Stiles reached for another slice of bread. “Let’s just say it’s a huge crime family that’s been operating here for decades and we’re right on the edge of taking them down once and for all.”

He scooped up a chunk of butter and started to sloppily spread it across his bread, oblivious to Derek’s heart starting to pound.

“The Argents?”

Stiles winced dramatically, mid-schmear. “Don’t tell anyone I said that, because we’re trying to keep it on the downlow until we’ve got more on them, and I really wasn’t supposed to say any of that, and god, this wine was a terrible idea.” He finished by putting his face in his hands, looking like he wanted to die right there.

Meanwhile, Derek’s heart had moved past pounding and he could feel his entire rib cage shuddering with each thud.

Was this a coincidence, going on a date with the cop investigating his ex-girlfriend’s criminal family? Was it a set-up? Was Laura in on all of it? No one knew about Derek and Kate’s relationship, how had she found out? Why didn’t she just ask him instead of coming up with this blind date scheme?

He reeled himself back in while Stiles shamefully took another sip of his wine and avoided eye contact.

He was getting ahead of himself. There was no way Laura knew about Kate. She hadn’t even been living in California during their relationship. This was probably just a coincidence; his sister was a prosecutor working with the police, his ex came from one of the largest criminal families in California, things were bound to collide eventually.

He took a deep breath through his nose, trying to act calm and casual, and asked, “As in Kate Argent?”

Stiles choked on his wine a bit. Again. He was a mess of a person.

“You say nothing to no one about this,” he ordered through a strained cough, pointing a very non-threatening finger at Derek. “To anyone. This never leaves this booth.”

“I won’t, but—I know her,” he finally said, and then immediately second-guessed himself. “Knew her. Used to know her.”

The threatening finger point shifted to more of an exclamation and Stiles hissed excitedly, “Holy god, you’re the ex!”

Derek jerked back. There was no way Stiles could’ve figured that out from this conversation, it really was a set up of some kind! Laura was in on it! Was Derek implicated in something? Was he about to be arrested?

“I—I don’t—”

“No, no,” Stiles interrupted, leaning forward excitedly. “We have someone on the inside and she said there was an ex who might’ve witnessed a lot. She said his name was Darren or Dorian or something.” He narrowed his eyes, definitely too tipsy to be having this conversation, especially in public. “Kind of sounds like Derek.”

Derek should’ve had more of that wine.

“Did you see anything about their operations?” Stiles demanded. “Hear any strange phone calls? Did she tell you anything?”

She did. And he had seen plenty during their year together, because Kate had routinely dismissed him as a pretty face and a firm ass to grab in public, but there was nothing Derek wanted to do more in that moment than sprint for the door. He was going to strangle Laura with his bare hands the second he saw her.

“Shouldn’t we be at the Sheriff’s Station for this?” It was a weak attempt at an escape, or at least a delay in dragging up the worst year of his life, but it didn’t deter Stiles like he’d hoped. Instead his eyes lit up.

“So you do know something! Where’s Michael? Can we get food to go here? I kind of chugged that wine and I’ve got maybe a fifteen minute window until it really hits, but if you drive, we can get to the station and get you talking on the record before I start getting embarrassing.” He actually started to get up, his napkin fell off his lap onto the floor, but Derek reached out to grab his jacket and pull him back into his seat.

“Hold on, I haven��t agreed to anything yet,” he hissed quietly, pulling Stiles closer to make sure he really heard and understood that. If he could intimidate him a little bit at the same time and maybe get him to stop steamrolling over Derek for five minutes, that would just be a bonus.

But Stiles wasn’t intimidated, and he grabbed Derek’s jacket right back.

“Derek,” he started lowly with an exhausted, manic gleam in his eye, “I’m so fucking tired all the god damn time, if you know something about the Argents, I will do literally anything to get you to testify in the court of law.”

“Anything?” Derek temporarily set aside his own discomfort and fear at the thought of becoming a witness against one of the largest crime families on the west coast, in favor of a little payback for all of the parking tickets he’d paid in the last three months. Priorities.

“Anything,” Stiles agreed, somewhat desperately.

“Will you personally apologize to all of our neighbors for being an asshole?”

Stiles’ right eye twitched. “I don’t think you realize how far I’ll go to get some fucking sleep and a day off.”

As close as they were, still holding each other closer, Derek could see the veins in Stiles’ bloodshot eyes. They were equal parts concerning and terrifying.

“So is that a yes to the apologizing?”

“I will personally buy each and every tenant in our building a bouquet of roses and serenade them at their door if you will testify against the Argents.”

Derek smirked. “Even me?”

Stiles hesitated, considering, and his eyes flicked down to Derek’s lips for he briefest second. “Depending on how I feel about you once I’ve slept more than three consecutive hours, you might just get a hell of a lot more than a song and roses out of me.”

Derek stared. Stiles swallowed and licked his lips, and Derek couldn’t keep from glancing down at them.

“Deal,” he said, and they quickly parted to get some fresh air outside of the cloud of wine breath. Stiles took another large gulp of wine while Derek flagged down Michael for the check and their food to go.

He ignored the wink he got in response.

(Their second date is Stiles going door-to-door through the building, Derek trailing behind with a huge bunch of flowers, handing their neighbors a rose as Stiles apologizes for being an ass. The entire building plays music and watches TV as loud as possible in retaliation, and Stiles can’t do anything but put a pillow over his head and suffer.)

(And obviously between Derek and Allison’s testimonies, the Argent family is rounded up and put in prison, so Stiles finally gets to take a few days off and he and Derek spend hours doing nothing but lazily napping and making out on the couch like a couple of teenagers. And Derek realizes that the dark circles under Stiles’ eyes aren’t how his face is supposed to be, and he’s really much cuter when he isn’t suffering intense sleep deprivation.)

#sterek #ficlet #prompts #this got away from me a bit #Anonymous

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thinkingaboutyoungroyals · 6 years

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Remember when Cyrus's mother told everyone that Bex was Andy's mother. Cyrus tells his mother that he and Tj are dating, but they want to keep it a secret or Cyrus says he has a crush on Tj. Weeks later, Cyrus's mother tells the whole family, but Cyrus does not know that. And during a party that his family is, he takes Tj and everyone is looking at them and talking about them and the two are confused.

This got a little serious towards the end but I ended it with a bit of fluff!

AO3

“So… I told my mom.”

T.J. froze, french fry halfway to his mouth.

Across from him, Cyrus picked at his baby taters, his stomach not really up for anything. He had been nervous all day before he had to meet T.J. at The Spoon for their usual Saturday afternoon date. And he did something the night before that may or may not go well with his boyfriend: he told his mother about them.

T.J. slowly put his fry down. “What did she say?” he asked, softly.

“Well, she didn’t seem opposed to it. But, I told her that we’re not really out to many people yet so it’s kind of a secret.” Cyrus flashed him a worried look. “You’re not mad, are you? She just kept asking if I was seeing anyone because apparently, I looked really happy lately and I didn’t want to lie and-.”

“Underdog.” Chuckling, T.J. lightly nudged his knee against his underneath the table. “It’s okay. I get it.”

Feeling relieved, Cyrus smiled before it fell again. “There’s… one more thing.”

T.J. tilted his head to the side, inquiringly.

Cyrus swallowed the lump in his throat. “She invited you to my step-sister Breanna’s birthday party next weekend. Can you come?”

“Hmm.” T.J. picked up another french fry. “Already meeting the family. We’re getting pretty serious, huh?”

“Teeeejaaaay.”

Chuckling again as he finished his fry, T.J. asked, “And how old is step-sister Breanna turning?”

Cyrus smiled. “She’ll be 10.”

“Will there be fun and games?”

“I heard in attendance will be a fine magician as well as a bouncy house.”

His boyfriend grinned. “Bouncy house? I’m sold.”

With the atmosphere lighter now, Cyrus turned back to his baby taters. He was definitely hungry now.

……….

The following weekend, T.J. arrived promptly at the designated time at the second Goodman home to accompany Cyrus and his family to step-sister Breanna’s birthday party. He even brought a gift.

Upon meeting Cyrus’ mother, the jock was immediately greeted with a “It’s so wonderful to finally meet you!” before being pulled into an affectionate hug. Meanwhile, Cyrus’ step-father, Todd, gripped T.J.’s hand, tightly, which the boy met with equal strength (he was an athlete after all).

After some brief chit chat, they all got into the car to drive to the other side of town where the birthday party was to be held. The little girl lived with her mother, who was Cyrus’ step-father’s ex-wife.

The party was already in full swing when they arrived. After greeting the hosts and the birthday girl, introducing T.J., and handing over their gifts, the adults were given drinks and were swept into adult conversation. Meanwhile, the youths were ushered to the backyard where children ran around, cupcakes were piled high on a table, a magician entertained, and, like Cyrus promised, a bouncy house stood in a corner.

“Wow,” T.J. breathed out.

Cyrus chuckled. “Overwhelming, huh? Todd’s ex-wife throws some of the best parties.”

“Not quite as extravagant as your Bash Mitzvah, though,” T.J. teased.

The two boys headed for the table of treats.

“That was an exception. I was turning into a man so I had to go all out!”

They each picked out a cupcake and filled a plate with various cookies before walking around and dodging running children. A few guests stopped them in their tracks to greet Cyrus who, in turn, introduced T.J. They looked quite surprised but politely and enthusiastically shook T.J.’s hand.

Finally, after much roaming around, they found an empty table to sit on. They munched on their treats, talking about one thing or another, and watching the magician perform his tricks from afar.

“Seriously, how did he do that?” T.J. asked in bewilderment as the guy revealed a dove underneath a covered plate.

“A magician never reveals his secret,” Cyrus answered with an amused grin.

“So, witchcraft.”

Cyrus burst out into amused laughter. “You would think that!”

Sometime later, few of the kids came up to them, greeting Cyrus as a familiar face. At first, they threw T.J. some curious and shy looks but after being introduced by Cyrus as his friend, they invited both boys to play.

That was how T.J. and Cyrus found themselves in the bouncy house, jumping and laughing until their cheeks and stomachs hurt. Even as the kids left one-by-one to play something else, the two remained.

They savored the alone time.

T.J. suddenly did a backflip, landing perfectly on his feet.

Mouth wide open at the sight, Cyrus exclaimed, “How did you do that?!”

“One of my hidden talents,” T.J. replied, laughing. “Want me to teach you?”

“No, thank you,” Cyrus said, hurriedly but T.J. was already jumping close to him, trying to make him go up higher. “T.J., no, I can’t!”

“Okay, okay.” His boyfriend reached for his hand with a grin. “But, do a somersault with me.”

“What?! Here?! How?!“

“Just use the momentum from our jump to go forward. You can do it! It will be fun!”

“Oh my god!”

“Ready?”

“T.J.!”

“One… two… three… go!”

Cyrus threw caution to the wind and propelled himself forward. He must have done something right because he flipped over and successfully landed on his legs.

Beside him, T.J. was still laughing in glee, having somersaulted along with him. Their hands were still entwined as the floor of the bouncy house continued to move.

“That was fun,” Cyrus admitted, finding himself high from the adrenaline rush.

Lips pressed against his cheek and he immediately blushed as he shyly looked up at T.J.

“Sorry, but you look really cute right now,” the jock said.

“I wasn’t complaining,” Cyrus returned, trying to will his blush to go away.

His boyfriend looked really cute too and he wanted to kiss him but he spied a few kids running up to the bouncy house.

Clearing his throat, he continued, “Well, I don’t know about you, but I’m parched. Wanna get a drink?”

T.J. nodded in agreement.

Together, the two crawled out of the bouncy house and headed for the house. In the kitchen, a plethora of drinks was laid for them to choose.

“I’ll have the lemonade,” Cyrus said, pointing to the bowl at the center of the table.

T.J. nodded and proceeded to ladle the drink into two cups.

Meanwhile, Cyrus looked around to see who else he knew had shown up. He always considered himself quite lucky to be close to his step-family so gatherings were never awkward.

And that was when he noticed the stares. They weren’t malicious stares or rude or anything, most of these people already knew who he was.

More of… curiosity?

A few of the women were smiling and talking in whispers.

It was really weird and frankly, it made Cyrus a little nervous.

“Here, Underdog.”

He turned back to see T.J. handing him a cup filled with ice and lemonade. He took it with a soft “thanks”, still wary of the eyes on them.

T.J. furrowed his brows at him. “You okay?”

“Hmm? Yeah, I’m fine just… wondering why everyone is staring. Do I have something on my face?”

His boyfriend squinted at him before shaking his head. “Nope. You look good like always,” he added with a saucy smirk.

“Teejay,” Cyrus huffed but unable to stop himself from blushing.

T.J. loved to compliment him. It was overwhelming sometimes.

“It is kinda weird,” T.J. admitted as he also looked around.

A few who caught their gaze offered them a wave and kind smile, which they politely returned. They stood there, drinking their lemonade as they tried to ignore the stares.

Just then, two older girls whom Cyrus recognized as Breanna’s college-aged cousins excitedly walked up to them.

“Hi, Cyrus!” one of them greeted, giving him a hug. “I haven’t seen you since you were small!”

He happily returned the hug. “Hi, Nikki.”

Nikki pulled away and let the other girl have her turn.

“It’s so great to see you!” she squealed.

Cyrus chuckled. “You too, Olivia.”

Simultaneously, the two girls turned to T.J., who instinctively stood up straight.

“So, who’s this?” Olivia asked, teasingly.

“My friend, T.J.,” Cyrus replied.

It was the way he had been answering questions about T.J. all day.

“It’s nice to meet you,” the taller boy greeted, politely.

The two girls looked at each other, looking like they knew something that Cyrus didn’t.

“Just a friend?” Olivia asked, with a raised brow.

Almost immediately, Cyrus’ guard was up. Beside him, he felt T.J. stiffen. He wanted to hold his hand but that was the most dangerous thing to do at that moment.

He didn’t know how Nikki and Olivia would react. Sure, they’ve known him for years but they didn’t know he was gay yet. In fact, he wasn’t even out to this side of the family. He only told his mom…

His mom…

As if reading what was going on in his head, Nikki and Olivia schooled their features to be gentler.

“Your mom kinda mentioned it to Auntie Ronnie,” Nikki stated, carefully. “And Auntie Ronnie told my mom and…”

His mom told Breanna’s mom… who told other people.

It was supposed to be a secret! T.J. wasn’t even out yet!

In a panic, he turned to his boyfriend who was now looking pale.

“Well… we were surprised at first but we figured we’d tell you that we love and support you nonetheless,” continued Nikki.

Cyrus swallowed the lump in his throat, his stomach flip-flopping with nerves. “Who… who else knows?”

“Basically… most of the aunties,” replied Olivia.

“Some of the uncles,” added Nikki. “And I’m pretty sure my great aunt April might have heard from Aunt Ronnie. But, you don’t have to worry! They’re surprisingly very open-minded. Aunt Gemma said her daughter is dating a woman.“

“In fact, I heard them talking about how you adorable you both are. They saw you playing with the kids in the bounce house. And apparently, they think T.J. is handsome”

“And Aunt Gemma said you chose well.”

By the time they were done explaining, Cyrus was already aware of how red his face was. From the corner of his eye, he could see T.J. blushing as well.

“Um, thank you?” was all he managed.

The girls patted him on the shoulder before excusing themselves.

Feeling guilty that his mom had messed up, Cyrus turned to T.J. “I’m sorry. I’ll talk to my mom. She shouldn’t have outed us like that and-.”

“It’s okay,” T.J. said, softly.

“No, it’s not, T.J. She should have kept it a secret like I asked!”

“Well, at least she didn’t tell anyone else that we know. And it’s fine if it stays here. But, I would definitely appreciate it if she didn’t tell anyone else. At least, not for now.”

“Done. I promise. I’ll talk to her as soon as I can.”

“Thank you.” Sighing, T.J. held a hand out to Cyrus, who stared at it in question. T.J. let out a chuckle. “Since your family already know, we might as well show off, right?”

Cyrus continued to stare at the outstretched hand, frowning. “Are you sure? We don’t have to.”

But, to his surprise, T.J. reached out for his free hand and threaded his fingers through his into a firm grip.

“We don’t have to,” the jock agreed. “But I want to.” He grinned. “Show me off?”

Warily, Cyrus searched T.J.’s eyes for any signs of apprehension. But, in those soft green eyes, there was only determination. His boyfriend had his game face on.

Finally allowing himself to smile, Cyrus nodded. “Okay. Can we get another cupcake, then? And go back to the bounce house?”

Nodding, they drained their lemonade cups and threw them out in the nearest garbage bag. Then, T.J. allowed Cyrus to pull him towards the door. Before they could step out, they were intercepted again.

“Hello, Cyrus, dear.”

T.J.’s grip on his hand tightened.

“Hi, Aunt Gemma.”

The woman flashed him a smile before her gaze went to T.J. “And who is this handsome young man with you?”

Smiling, Cyrus stepped closer to T.J.’s side, placing a hand on his arm. “This is T.J. My boyfriend.”

#tyrus

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remsyk-blog · 6 years

Text

Martini Time

Holy SHIT! A Cocktail Friday submission? Jeez, it’s been forever. Written for this post.

Plunked out just in time! Enjoy!

@thisweekingundamwing @gwcocktailfriday

Trowa suppressed a sigh as he looked over the room. “Remind me again why I agreed to this?”

His companion snorted delicately, hooking her hand around his arm. “Because you look damn good in a suit and get to drink for free.” Relena glanced up at him with a knowing smirk before pulling him further into the room.

Trowa fell in step obediently, feeling like he had stepped into a time warp. The theme for the party was pre-colonial 1950s, complete with period style furniture and dress. It was basically a fancy Halloween party in mid summer, all in the name of whatever charity suited the host’s mood.

Relena had requested his presence, even though he normally didn’t attend events like this. Heero and Wufei were the first picks for protection during formal events, and in the event that either of them were unavailable, Duo stepped in, though he had been dropped lower on the list following the events during his last party with her. Relena had argued vehemently for his place to be restored, claiming it had been as much her idea as his, but her pleas had fallen on deaf ears.

Duo had merely shrugged, telling her she didn’t need the excuse of a stuffy party to get together for a real shindig. Relena had been thrilled at the open invitation; Heero and Wufei, not so much.

Thus Trowa had been added to the list, the wisdom of which he was still debating.

He casually noted more than a few admiring looks, and didn’t have to glance at Relena to know she found the attention amusing.

“I’m not going to say it,” he murmured to her.

She chuckled lightly, pulling closer to him as she squeezed his arm. “You don’t have to,” she smiled up at him, all charm, her voice like honey. “Their reactions say it all.”

He bit back his reply, knowing it would be pointless to draw her attention to the looks she was getting. As a prominent politician, she was used to being the center of attention, and as a beautiful young woman, used to the less than innocent leers.

Trowa glared over her head at one such expression, allowing himself a twing of satisfaction when the man paled and turned away as he took a hasty sip from his drink.

“See? You’re already enjoying yourself,” Relena commented, still wearing her polite mask, but her eyes were sharp. She knew exactly what he had been doing.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Trowa sniffed.

She huffed a laugh and stepped away from him. “Any preference on drinks?”

Trowa arched an eyebrow at her, then pointedly looked around the room, catching sight of the various martini glasses clutched in the hands of the guests. “I’ll let you take a wild guess.”

Relena rolled her eyes and left, leaving him to entertain himself with watching the effect she had on the other guests.

She, like everyone else here, was wearing a dress appropriate for the theme, a dark green knee length cocktail dress with a sweetheart neckline. The back of the dress was cut lower than some of the more conservative version he’d seen, swooping just above the small of her back. Her hair had been coaxed into thick waves, clipped carefully out of her face, leaving the rest loose down her back, highlighting the exposed stretch of skin. The dress flared out at her hips, accenting her trim waist. She finished the ensemble with simple, low heels. She had forgone wearing gloves, something he hadn’t realized was unusual until he noted how many others wore them.

Trowa watched her move through the crowd, grateful for his height, and made his way to a sitting area set in the corner of the room near the bar. He nodded to her when she turned to scan the room, then settled on the couch, angled to keep her in his sighs.

“Excuse me, is this seat taken?”

He glanced up at the woman who smiled at him in what he assumed was a charming manner. She twirled a finger in her hair as she cocked her hip, holding her glass delicately in the other hand.

“Yes,” he replied, dismissing her.

“I haven’t seen you before,” she pressed, sitting down regardless, blocking his view of Relena. He narrowed his eyes at her slightly, annoyed by her insistence. She crossed her legs delicately, carefully adjusting the folds of her dress to drape just so, then leaned forward. “I’m Amelia.”

“A pleasure,” Trowa answered flatly, glaring down at her before glancing over her head, trying to catch sight of Relena.

“I’m sure it is,” Amelia purred, inching closer with a sultry smile. “You’re quite the handsome picture. Most men here can’t quite pull off the look.”

Trowa returned his attention to her, not bothering to suppress his frown. He was dressed in a dark charcoal suit, the cut slightly different from the ones he owned, but the kicker had been his hair. Relena had insisted he style his hair appropriately, which meant a lot of hair gel. He had parted it on the side and slicked back his bangs, finishing it off with a polished sheen. He’d gotten more than a few looks and comments when he had arrived to escort Relena to the party.

To his surprise, Duo had been in her office, the two engaged in conversation when Trowa had entered. Relena had immediately voiced her approval, showering him in compliments, but Trowa internally braced for a comment from Duo. He had hoped to finish the evening without having to face any of his fellow ex-pilots.

Instead of a snide comment, Duo had studied him from top to bottom with a curious expression. He had risen from his sprawled position in his chair, murmured something to Relena before giving her a kiss on the head, then left, leaving Trowa more off-balanced than expected.

“Did you come here alone?”

Amelia’s question pulled him back to the present, noting she had moved closer during his lapse and was now nearly in his lap. Just as he opened his mouth, another voice cut in.

“He’s currently occupied.”

Trowa quirked a grin at the icy tone, standing to accept the drink Relena held out for him. She smiled back then turned a frosty glare at the woman still seated on the couch. “I thought I saw your husband in the other room,” she said sweetly. “I’m sure he’s terribly lonely.”

Amelia stood quickly with a huff, and marched off, disappearing into the crowd.

Trowa shook his head, smirking slightly as he watched Relena glare after her. “My hero.”

She turned to him, all traces of her glare gone. “She’s a leech,” she said bluntly, shocking a laugh from him. “I don’t know what her husband sees in her.”

He shook his head and motioned to the couch and settled down beside her. They sat in comfortable silence as they sipped their drinks when a thought occurred to him.

“Why did you ask for me?”

Relena finished sipping her martini before answering. “It was Duo’s idea.”

Trowa frowned slightly, not expecting that bit of information. “There were others who could have done this,” he said. “Jones and Turner were both ahead of me.”

“True, but they’re not nearly as nice to look at,” Relena said as she leaned back, laying an arm over the back of the couch, her empty glass hanging loosely in her grip.

“You’re saying Duo suggested I take you to this party just so you could see me dressed up?”

Relena hummed an affirmative as she smiled. “He has excellent taste.”

Trowa turned over the new information, thinking back to Duo’s watchful eyes, the way he had looked him over, his closeness with Relena, how the pair, despite their obvious differences, seemed drawn to each other. Trowa would be the last to admit, especially to himself, that he was a little jealous of their bond, how comfortable they seemed together.

“And you?” He finally asked, draining the rest of his drink.

“Our tastes often fall in line,” she answered, leaning her head back to stare at him with hooded eyes.

Trowa inhaled a shaky breath and set his glass on the coffee table. He had assumed, given when he had seen and the rumor mill, that the two were together in some capacity. She wasn’t really offering, was she? “What about Duo?”

Her smile stretched into a grin, and Trowa suddenly found himself pulled forward by his tie. He followed her willingly, until he was leaning over her, his heart in his throat as he realized what was happening.

“I promised I would share,” she whispered, then pulled him down for a searing kiss.

#martini time #my fanfics #3xr #implied 2xr #trowa barton #relena peacecraft #duo maxwell #fancy parties #appreciation for trowa's hair #promises to share #ya know #possible maybe most likely 2x3xr #gundam wing

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deepdickdaniel · 6 years

Text

Kim Jaehwan | Host Club

prompt: you’re having a bad day when you suddenly see an advertisement for your school’s host club.

note 1: this is a full host club series for all 11 W1 members - daniel’s part can be found here! and minhyun’s is here! the first four bullets will be the same for each member’s scenario just to remind you all of the host club’s mission.

note 2: for whoever doesn’t know what a host club is, it’s a place where people pay to be entertained by male hosts! a customer usually pays to talk to a specific host of his or her choosing and talks/flirts/jokes around with him for however much time is paid for! the host club i’m writing about is mostly based on ouran high school host club.

your school’s host club was a new addition to the…extracurricular activities that one could partake in

you heard that there were eleven different hosts that you could choose from

each host was specifically recruited by the mastermind that came up with the idea for the club

and each host had a specific charity that he would donate his proceeds to at the end of every semester

one day, you were just feeling really down - there were a few reasons, like friend troubles and stress from school

you were just about to head home to mope some more when you passed by a bulletin board with a flier that looked a lot different from the rest

it said “want to help out a charity AND be entertained??? stop by our host club and let us serve you!” with a collage of a whole bunch of flowery boys looking like memes

the one who stuck out to you was trying to be serious, but you could tell he wanted to laugh as he held his guitar like a sword L O L

the flier made you laugh, so you decided to just give it a try to see if it could actually make you feel better

when you arrived, you were blown away by how bougie the place actually looked, the hosts looking so refined, kind, and ready to serve

“hello there! what kind of host are you looking for today?” you recognized yoon jisung smiling brightly at you

“uhhh, i just really want to laugh, so someone funny i guess?” man, were you new to this whole choosing a host thing

but jisung just kept smiling despite your awkwardness, “ah okay, so i can recommend two hosts for you! would you want a smooth, more natural kind of funny guy? or do you want a loud, goofy guy...who also plays the guitar?”

“who are my two options? how do they look like?” you wanted to see if the guitar man would be the same one from the flier

jisung paused and thought to himself for a second before asking you to give him a moment to fetch the guys

after a minute, you came face to face with two men - one looked traditionally charming, the type to sweep you off your feet, while the other looked really sweet, but nervous and—

omg he was the guitar guy

you just had a good feeling about him and pointed at him before the other one could even introduce himself

“what? really? me? i haven’t even sung yet...!” your choice of host pointed to himself incredulously

“you sing too?!”

“yeah, let me show you!!!” he grabbed your hand, pulling you to his assigned loveseat

as the two of you made your way there, he introduced himself as jaehwan, leaving ong and jisung shook at the front of the host club

you found yourself unusually more cheerful as you conversed with jaehwan, his laugh alone making you guffaw hysterically

he was just so genuine with everything he said

you didn’t even know how he could pull off such a smooth-talking job when he looked like he didn’t have a deceitful bone in his body that could act like he liked customers even when he didn’t

you told him that he made you feel so much better and that you’d come to be his guest again the next day they were open

he grinned at you so happily that you knew you would keep your promise no matter what

the next time you saw him, he had his guitar already ready at his table

and after a few songs, you got emotional because of his voice and started getting into your feelings

somehow, you ended up venting about your problems, which surprised you because jaehwan was so goofy, yet so easy to talk to

you told him about your snake friends and how they all ganged up on you, leaving you basically without a friend group

jaehwan didn’t pity you and you appreciated that - instead, he gave you real advice on how to get over them and just be true to yourself

“you know, sometimes i get embarrassed of who i am...” he found himself saying before he could even filter his words

“wait, why?”

jaehwan mentally cursed himself - he was supposed to make you laugh, not get so serious!!! “no, nevermind, it’s okay—”

“i want to know”

he couldn’t not tell you after that

“honestly, i don’t even know how i’m a host here? i’m not the most handsome guy out there, i mean, i can sing and play the guitar, which is charming to some guests, but...”

“you think you’re not handsome? what?”

“...jisung was afraid to hurt my feelings to hurt my feelings the first day you came here, since a few guests have been kinda rude about my face, which is why he hesitated to show you your options...”

“i didn’t even notice ong” you blurted out, then tried to fix your words when jaehwan stared at you in shock, “i mean!!! he’s cool and all but i just recognized you from the flier—”

jaehwan’s crazy laughter burst out from his mouth as he grabbed his stomach while breathing for air

“...”

“the flier! i can’t believe that was your first impression of me”

“yeah, you were really attractive and looked really funny because i could tell you were trying really hard not to laugh...”

jaehwan stopped paying attention to your babbling the second you called him attractive - if you had looked at his face in that moment, you would have seen him bright red

he already had a crush on you the second you picked him to be your host, but it had strengthened throughout your time together

now this???

you would make his heart burst one day without even realizing it

from then on out, he tried to make you laugh even more, throwing in some flirtation every now and then, too

...you just ended up laughing at him trying to flirt...

the way he’d laugh around you would be so loud that minhyun moved him to a separate room whenever you would arrive at the host club, so the two of you could have your time alone without “disturbing the other guests”

“he’s just cranky because his favorite guest didn’t come today...” jaehwan had whispered to you as minhyun ushered the two of you to a back room. you elbowed jaehwan, seeing minhyun’s glare, and the former promptly shut up

time passed by and jaehwan basically became your best friend, filling the empty space that your ex-friends left in your heart

he built up your self-esteem and told you that you were wonderful even without anyone telling you so, and you told him the same, and that his talent would be recognized soon enough

“oh that reminds me, my charity is for an organization that helps kids who come from abusive homes learn how to read, write, and play music as an escape from their bad pasts”

“weren’t you supposed to tell me this the first time we met?”

“yeah?”

“jaehwan...it’s been two months”

your wonderful host also introduced you to some other new people, specifically daniel, minhyun, sungwoon, and jisung’s “favorite guests” go hyung line

they ended up becoming a group of really great, genuine friends to you

one time at lunch when you were with your new friends, they started to interrogate you

“has jaehwan asked you out yet?”

choking on your tea, you asked, “what?”

“he’s been in love with you since day one, have you seriously not noticed?”

“wait what do i do, i like him too!!!”

before they gave you advice, you were interrupted, “hey guys, sorry we’re late! i had to give some advice to the new exchange student that i gave a tour to at the beginning of the semester because someone” jisung’s favorite guest glared at sungwoon’s, “thought i spoke taiwanese”

"please. you didn’t even give him the tour, you made someone else do it. anyway, what’s the tea?”

“we’re about to get a couple together once and for all”

you don’t know how it happened, but a few days after that, you were dragged to the auditorium by your friends and the doors were locked, preventing you from leaving

“wait guys! what’s happening?!”

suddenly, a single spotlight shone on the stage, revealing jaehwan on a stool with his guitar

his song was soulful with a bit of a happy beat, and you recognized the lyrics as some of the pick up lines he tried to use on you but failed

when the song was over, you stood up and applauded, whooping loudly to hide your nervousness

“so...”

“hmm?” you asked, teasing him as he pulled you up onto the stage

“is that a yes or a no?”

“jaehwan, that was a song, not a question”

he pouted and started giving you a fake tantrum, “but i worked so hard on it to convey my feelings!!!”

you started laughing at his silliness and pulled him close to you for a kiss,

“yes”

you had one last date/meeting at the host club before jaehwan turned in his button down shirt, giving ong the reason that he wouldn’t be able to serenade anyone except you from now on

“hey,” you heard minhyun call for you before you left, “good luck with him...seriously, good luck, like, you might not understand what you’re getting yourself into so take this as a warn—”

“hey!!!” your boyfriend whined before pulling you out of the door, “no ruining my image yet! we just started dating!”

laughing, you allowed yourself to be pulled out of the host club for the last time as a customer

and as you smiled at your crazy, goofy boyfriend who was laughing to himself in front of you, you knew that you had gotten a lot more from that flier than you would have ever expected

#kim jaehwan #kim jaehwan scenarios #wanna one #wanna one scenarios #wanna one imagines #kim jaehwan imagine #jaehwan #jaehwan scenarios #jaehwan imagines #host club #everyong #this was actually so much fun to write #it's never been so easy to write for jaehwan than it was this time around

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wingsy-keeper-of-songs · 6 years

Text

a good time

I had Dusan’s dumb ass in mind for when I wrote this. And here you are, my lovelies. I promised Dusan fic, you will get Dusan fic. Enjoy! Downsizing is the property of Alexander Payne

Tim Curry once said "it's not easy having a good time," and Sara Dufresne, recently downsized and unceremoniously dumped afterwards, could very much relate. She stood in front of the rows of colors, trying to decide on which color she could use. She wasn't really paying much attention to her surroundings, so lost in her own little world, that she very well would have jumped out of her skin when someone asked her a question.

"Er, I'm sorry?" She asked once her heart ceased trying to break out of her ribcage.

"I was asking if you were all right," the man said sheepishly. "You looked kinda lost." Sara shrugged, stuffing her hands into her oversized olive green jacket.

"I'm good," she replied, though not looking good at all. She looked like she was on the verge of tears.

"Are you new? I don't think we've seen you around here." The man continued awkwardly, rubbing the back of his neck. "I mean, have you recently downsized?"

"I've been here about four months," she said with a shrug. "My story's kind of a boring one."

"I've got time. My wife is off looking at produce, she usually takes about twenty minutes judging the groceries before she buys anything." He said with a small chuckle. Sara gave him a sideways glance. He didn't seem all that intimidating. He was relatively average-looking and he seemed pretty normal. Nothing seemed off about him. Sara decided to put her trust in this painfully average person.

"Well, my boyfriend and I were trying to raise enough money to get married." She started. "We agreed that downsizing would be the best way to go, so we got everything together, said our goodbyes to everyone and went through the process. At least, I thought he did until the prick called me and told me he wanted to see other people. And that he was still big." She sighed bitterly. The man raised his eyebrows, looking as if he'd heard this story before.

"Sounds like me and my ex," he said sympathetically. "She backed out at the last minute too, though I never thought she'd be seeing someone else." Sara laughed, but there was no humor in her expression.

"Yeah, turns out the asshole was dating some other girl while we were together anyways." She said as she picked up a color and examined it. "I mean, I went completely straight for this guy. I stopped with the partying, took out my piercings, settled down, that sort of thing. I gave up a life of fun for him because I thought I loved him and that he deserved better. Guess I was wrong."

"How long were you two dating for?"

"Two years," she sighed. "And it's two years of my life that I will never get back." He made a face.

"Shit."

"Yeah." There was a bit of a pause in the conversation as she put the dye back and took down another. "I've decided to just live life," she said. "I can do things I used to and don't have to worry about being judged for them. Like dying my hair blue." She turned to grin at him. "So, carpe diem." There was something about her grin that reminded the man of something or someone and he smiled back.

"You know," he began. "Um, I'm not meaning to freak you out or anything, but a friend of mine is hosting a party later. Maybe you should go and meet some new people?" Sara raised an eyebrow.

"Are you inviting me, or am I going to be crashing?" She asked. He laughed nervously.

"I guess I'm inviting you," he said. "I don't really go to them anymore. Not after last time."

"What happened last time?" Sara asked, interested.

"Never mind that," he said hastily. "The point is, I think you might have some genuine fun there. And my friend is really accommodating. He's a pretty nice guy all things standing. I think he might be able to cheer you up. Here, I'll give you the address." He took out a little notebook and scribbled something on it before handing it to her. Sara thanked him and pocketed the little slip of paper.

"Cool," she smiled. "Well, I should buy my dye now. I think I've stared at nothing and wallowed in self pity long enough. By the way, I never got your name. I'm Sara."

"Paul," he smiled and shook her hand. "It was really nice to meet you, Sara."

"Yeah, likewise." She said pleasantly. "I guess I'll see you around?" Paul nodded and headed to the produce aisle.

"Sure, I'll see you." He replied with a wave. Sara beamed and headed for checkout while Paul caught up with his wife who was busy judging tomatoes.

"What take so long?" She asked, eying him curiously. Paul shrugged.

"I was just chatting with a newly shrunk," he replied. "She seemed kinda down, so I thought she could use a bit of cheering up. I invited her to Dusan's." Ngoc Lan raised an eyebrow.

"You try to get her high?" She asked. Paul shook his head.

"Well, no. But I think Dusan could cheer her up a little. She was recently dumped." He explained. "She's had it rough for the past few months, so I thought she might need a bit of fun." Ngoc Lan placed the tomatoes in the cart.

"You invite her to Mister Dusan's, you set her up for more heartbreak." She replied sagely. "She gonna need Jesus." Paul laughed, but he couldn't help but disagree with her. Dusan was a bit wild, yes, but he had a pretty decent heart. As long as he didn't destroy it with narcotics.

xxxx

Sara stared at the door for a solid two minutes. She'd had an internal discussion with her feet about just heading in and pretending like she knew what she was doing, but it seemed as if she were frozen to the spot.

"Ugh, this is such bullshit." She said to herself. "I mean, it's just a party. It's not like a ritual sacrifice or anything. There is no need to be this frickin' nervous." She stared at the door and took a deep breath. "Okay, I just need to knock and introduce myself as a friend of Paul's. Or acquaintance. Or whatever it is you call it when two people have a moment in a grocery store." She raised her fist. "Just knock." She kept telling herself. "Just knock." And she did. She was petrified beyond belief, but she did it. The door swung open and a very inebriated girl was standing in the doorway, looking confused and most likely high.

"Uh," Sara started and smiled a bit awkwardly. "Hi there. Are you a friend of Dusan?" The girl stared at her for a moment before smiling syrupy sweet and pulling her in.

"Ohmigawd, are you new here?" She asked, slurring her words all over the place. Sara could smell the fruity drinks on her breath.

"Kinda. I'm a friend of Paul's." The girl didn't seem like she knew what she was talking about, but she was sweet enough and showed Sara around.

"Ohmigawd, you have to tell me who did your hair!" She said, petting the blue strands carefully. "It's so vibrant!"

"Uh, thanks. I did it myself." Sara said a little nervously.

"Dusan is usually at the bar or on the dance floor." The girl continued. "I don't know, he's everywhere and nowhere. But you should totally meet him. He's like, super chill and cute." She giggled again. "Here, I'll get you a drink and you can like socialize or dance or whatever." Sara really wanted to know the drunk girl's name, but she slipped away before she could say anything.

"Okay," she said to herself. "Welp, that was a bust. Now, where's the food?" She started looking around, trying not to bump into people until she inevitably did. "Oh fuck a duck!" She blurted out. "I'm sorry about that, man." The man she'd bumped into waved it off and grinned at her.

"It's no problem," he replied in an accent that sounded Russian. "Hi there! You look new." She nodded.

"Yeah, kinda. I mean, I was sort of invited here, I think? Guy's name was Paul." His eyes lit up.

"Ah, you mean my neighbor!" He said with a grin. "Yeah, Paul told me he invited someone here. Failed to tell me she had blue fuckin' hair though." Sara smiled a little self-consciously.

"Paul's your neighbor?" She asked. He nodded.

"Yeah, nice guy. Funny, too." He shook his head. "Anyways, I'm Dusan." So this was the person Paul had mentioned, Sara thought. Well, he certainly seemed like a decent human being.

"Sara," she replied. "So, this is your place?" He grinned wolfishly and nodded.

"Sure is. Come on, we can get a drink. You look like you're about to pass out and not in the good way." She followed him through a throng of people greeting him rapidly. He seemed relatively cheerful and good-natured, and Sara found herself rather liking him a little. He got her a drink and they sat at the bar.

"You were the one with relationship issues, right?" He asked bluntly. Sra blinked.

"Uh, yeah." She replied, somewhat offended. It wasn't exactly her fault the relationship soured now, was it. "Yeah, you could say that."

"American boys have no idea how to treat a lady," he said through a huff. "It's ridiculous." She shrugged.

"I dunno, I mean I guess he was all right at first." She sipped her drink, feeling the burn. "Shit that's strong."

"Pure Serbia, darling. That shit's the good shit." Dusan said, grinning wolfishly. "So, he just up and left you tiny, did he? What a dick."

"Yeah, he was." Sara agreed. "So, you're Serbian, huh?" Dusan nodded.

"Have been all my life."

"Yeah, I was kinda wondering what the accent was." Sara said. "The more ya know. And knowing is half the battle." Dusan laughed and she found herself drawn to the line of his throat. Though that was most likely the vodka speaking.

"So, why did you get small?" Dusan asked. She nearly choked on her shot.

"Well, at first I wanted to get married to the prick who left me. Now I just live day to day, doing shit, getting paid to do shit, meandering through life like a slug." She shrugged. "Not exactly living, is it?"

"I couldn't say," he replied. "But yeah, it sounds fuckin' terrible." She knocked back her shot.

"It is. It's the worst." She sighed and put her chin on her arms. "Man, I need to get laid big time." Dusan tilted his head a little.

"Yeah? Is that an invitation?" He asked, looking her over. Sara looked up at him. He was a good-looking son-of-a-bitch, she'd give him that. And he looked like he might be a good time. And he was being pretty chill with her and letting her vent her shit at him. Honestly, it wasn't a bad idea despite having just met the guy.

"Maybe," she said with what she hoped was a flirtatious smile. "Or it could be the alcohol talking, I dunno." He shrugged.

"Drunken words are sober thoughts," he pointed out with a bounce of his eyebrows and she had to laugh. "And you're pretty fuckin' cute, so that's a bonus." She felt color rush to her cheeks.

"Haven't been called cute in a while," she said. "You wanna dance or something? Maybe we could see where the night goes afterwards?" He nodded and stood from the bar.

"I think I could live with that."

xxx

That was the last thing Sara remembered. The next morning, she found herself in an unfamiliar room, still dressed and with a pounding headache. Her brain screamed at her for her stupidity and all she wanted was for the room to stop spinning. Someone knocked on the door and she groaned and hid under the pillows.

"Why do you hate me, God?" She groaned softly.

"You okay in there?" Dusan's voice came from the outside. He sounded pretty hungover himself. "I'm coming in. If you're naked, don't throw shit at me. I'm not awake enough to deflect it yet." He opened the door and gave her a tired smile. "Hi." He greeted. She groaned in response.

"Fuck my life," she moaned into the pillows. "I am never drinking again."

"I said the same thing a few months ago, it never stuck." He said as he sat next to her. "You, uh, you remember anything?" She shook her head. "Well, you drank me under the table." He said. "And, uh, you challenged me to a dance-off." She groaned.

"Drunk Sara thinks she can dance," she said. "I bet she embarrassed the shit out of herself." He shook his head.

"From what I can remember, you weren't half bad." He replied with a smile. "But you passed out halfway through and I had to carry you here."

"Thanks for letting me stay the night," she said with a grateful, hungover smile. "It was really sweet of you." Dusan shrugged and ran a hand through his hair.

"Friends don't let friends drink and drive," he replied. She finally sat up and rubbed at her eyes.

"I'll be out of your hair in a minute," she informed him. "You know, until after the sunlight stops trying to kill me."

"Understandable. If you can stomach it, I could make you breakfast." Dusan offered. At the look on her face, he laughed. "Only if you want though." She stood up a little shakily and ran a hand through her shock of blue hair.

"Nah, it's all good son." She said with a wry grin. "I'll probably see you at your next party or whatever. Right now, I just need to go home and die a little." He nodded.

"I'll show you out." He said as he headed out the door with her. It took her a little bit to process that he wasn't wearing very much outside of the blue robe...which he'd deliberately left open. 'Was he always that hot, or am I still drunk?' Sara wondered. She followed him to the door and they stood there for a second.

"So...see you, I guess?" She ventured. He nodded, running a hand through his hair again.

"Yeah, I guess." They were awkwardly quiet for a minute as Sara's feet refused to carry her out the door again. She seemed to be making her mind up about something as she stared at Dusan for a solid ten seconds. Looking a little pale, she stood on her toes and gave him a kiss on the cheek before pulling back and blushing like she was 18 goddamn years old.

"Thanks for letting me crash, and for the good time." She said a little shyly. He looked somewhat surprised, but before she could leave, he took her wrist and crashed his lips against hers. Sara's eyes went wide, but she definitely welcomed it. She grabbed hold of his robe and kissed him back eagerly. He pulled back to wink at her.

"Until next time?" He asked. She nodded, head reeling a little.

"Yeah...next time." She said, dazed. He waved at her as she turned and left with something of a bounce in her step that Paul would later ask her about the next time he saw her.

#downsizing fic #i had a bit of a hard time with this fic because i didn't know dusan's character too well #now i do #and i am in love #also i totally stole that surname from shawshank #christoph waltz #tagging the fandom

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